


Sing to Me

by Anki_Shai



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU, Aftermath of Torture, But not everyone is happy, Dreams vs. Reality, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Implied Mind Rape, Imprisonment, Lorien - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Kíli and Tauriel, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Protective Thorin, Psychological Torture, Torture, everyone lives!, prompt, this is my first time trying something this dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-12
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-08 10:59:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1131849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anki_Shai/pseuds/Anki_Shai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil had been kidnapped by a group of orcs. While being tortured both Kings realized there may be more than animosity between them. However, Thranduil has been poisoned and he is loosing his mind little by little confused as to what is real and what is part of the nightmare the orcs made him live.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there. Well this story is to answer to different prompts from the Hobbit Kink Meme in LJ.
> 
> Prompt 1:http: // hobbit -kink. livejournal. com/ 9471.html?thread= 21487359#t21487359  
> Promt 2: http:// hobbit- kink. livejournal. com/8973.html?thread= 19100941#t19100941
> 
> Perhaps I took another way that the author of the prompt 2 wanted but still I hope you like it. The story is no beta-ed yet so I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recently, it has come to my attention that some of my works had been taken down without my authorization and upload for downloading as e-books, mobi, odf, etc and they're charging for some of them. I just want to make clear only AO3 and my personal blog have the full rights of my work, I know this is a fanfiction and that in theory we're using characters and places that don't belong to me, however, the ideas in the story, the plot and other intellectual work is mine and is part of my fellow fanfic writers. Thank you for your consideration.

**Sing to Me**

 

 

He had been dreaming.

He remembered the soft light warming up his face, the entrancing voice calling out to him. There was a yearning in his heart, he tried to run towards the voice to catch it between his fingers and treasure it in his soul. But, as soon as he got near the voice, a blinding pain filled his being and he felt his head braking up in two with a pulsating pain moving down his back.

Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, opened his eyes to the crude reality. There was a painful sound escaping his mouth, he blinked several times trying to regain his senses while his mind went through the latest activities.

“Wh-what…” He tried to sit up but a hand pressed him down, he turned his head feeling dizzy his eyes seeing a blurry form.

“Stay down.” That voice, that soft commanding voice he knew. He tried to sound indignant, to muster anger at the owner of the voice but he ended up scrunching up his nose and making noises.

Thranduil, Elven-King of Mirkwood sighed, his cold eyes took in the form of Thorin. He then focused his attention on the bloodied wound on his head. He had done everything in his power with what little he had at hand to cure the injury on Thorin’s head. Thranduil would never admit he felt relief when Thorin finally woke up; he would never admit to Thorin he had felt alone and had sung to him to come back.

“You were hit in your head, quite nastily.” Said Thranduil speaking in soft whispers, Thorin frowned and tried to sit up again. Thranduil pressed his hand down keeping Thorin on the floor. “If you sit now, you will probably make yourself sick. Lie down and wait.”

“Y-you…what did…what you…d-did…” Thorin was trying to collect his thoughts and forced himself to feel better. He blinked again focusing his dark blue eyes on Thranduil. By now the blurry was disappearing, he could focus his eyes on the elf sitting beside him.

“We….We were captured.” Said Thranduil and his voice revealed just how disgusted he was with the idea.

Thorin grumbled something trying to sit up for a third time; this time around instead of stopping him Thranduil help the Dwarf. Thorin felt confused, the dizziness was back he grabbed his head and could finally focus his eyes on Thranduil and the place they were in.

It was a dark cave filtered with water and a fool smell of dead and decomposition. There were bones of the former habitants of the jail and the cell door was made of wood and metal. Thorin then turned to Thranduil and the dwarf opened his eyes in disbelief. In all the years Thorin had known the Elven-King he had never seen him so dishevelled. His armour in bygone days was a sight to be held, gleaming with the light of the Eldar and resistant to almost any attack was now split open in several places. It was also covered in mud and dirt, with black blood and red blood all over it. Thorin swept with his eyes the darkened face looking back at him, the black eye and the slip lip. He also saw the greasy hair filled with dead leaves and more dirt.

Thranduil clenched his jaw, lifting his chin proudly daring Thorin to say something. Even in such a state the Elven-King refused to lower himself. Thorin felt anger growing inside him, he was about to say something when his eyes fell upon a bleeding wound he hadn’t noticed before.

“You are hurt.” Thranduil turned his head his arm twitched but the Elven-King remained stubborn. Thorin took in the sight before him and something aside from anger stir in him.

The Elven-King looked primal, vulnerable and savage all in a wild beauty with a proudness that shouldn’t be allowed in the mortal world. Thorin shook his head closing his eyes and hating himself for letting his own desires take over his judgement.

“This is nothing.” Thranduil finally said hiding away the winced of pain while he moved his arm.

Thorin glanced at the wound lifting an eyebrow in disbelief. Thranduil’s armour had penetrated the skin and muscle under the ribcage, there was blood and the Elven-King was paler than usual. It occurred to Thorin he didn’t know how long had they been prisoners.

“You say we are prisoners, aye?” Thranduil nodded curtly, Thorin frowned at the lack of verbal response but continue his interrogation. “How long?”

Thranduil then hesitate, he turned his eyes to Thorin only to evade looking at the dwarf again.

“I do not know. But, you were unconscious for a long time.” Then Thranduil went silent and Thorin had the feeling the Elven-King was hiding something.

For a moment Thorin played with the idea of demanding answers. He wasn’t so keen on the idea of being on the same cell as Thranduil, much less of being in debt with the elf. They may be allies but whatever fragile partnership Erebor had established with Mirkwood was not enough for Thorin to forgive past transgressions. Still, the both of them were in this together and Thorin knew until someone come from them he would have to work with the elf.

“How did it happen?” He finally asked; Thranduil lowered his head pursing his lips and sending a fiery glare towards Thorin.

“You don’t remember?” And there was coldness in the elf’s voice to which Thorin could only answer with confusion and more anger. He didn’t like not knowing.

“I obviously don’t or else I wouldn’t be asking, O Mighty Elven-King.” Said Thorin his voice dripping sarcasm.

“It was your fault!” Thranduil this time couldn’t hide the pain traveling to his body from the wound on his side. Thorin tensed up worry crossing his eyes.

“My fault?”

Thranduil sighed this time around he didn’t pretend his wound didn’t hurt. He took his left hand and pressed taking deep breathes.

“You…You should have stayed where you were…It was a trap.” Thranduil frowned. “If you haven’t decided to intervene whatever witchcraft the orcs were carrying with them wouldn’t have been activate and that explosion wouldn’t had taken you out.”

Thorin’s frown deepened; he lifted his hand to his head and felt the dry blood there. He collected the memories in his head, going over and over on what he could collect of the attack. He had been at the forest entrance waiting for a caravan carrying gold, silver and Mithril from Ered Luin. He knew some of the Wood Elves would be escorting the caravan and such…but, something went wrong and once the dwarves and elves reached the edge of the forest they were attacked. Something didn’t add up to the scenery; Thorin then turned to Thranduil.

“What were you doing there? You were prepared to fight.” Thorin said signalling the armour. “You knew about the attack?”

Thranduil nodded, “Tauriel warned me. I left the palace and joined her and another thirty of my soldiers to stop the orcs. However, I didn’t know where they would attack until it was too late.”

“Strange that the Elven-King Thranduil didn’t turn around.” Said Thorin, Thranduil frowned.

“They were trespassing my lands and I’ve heard…”

“Of course! How foolish of me! _Your lands._ ” Said Thorin anger tainting his voice. “If my people had been alone then probably you wouldn’t have move a finger. And since it wasn’t a dwarf town…”

“Don’t! Don’t even start, O King Under the Mountain.” Said Thranduil angered by the implied accusation. “You should know by now why my help when Smaug came was denied. I won’t let you hold that against me. Not anymore.”

“Oh, of course not. Heaven’s forbid someone try to remind you of your wrong doings! Of your betrayal!”

“I came to your help at the Battle! This time…”

“Oh, because it suited you! Because we were on your lands!” Replied Thorin.

Thranduil went to answer but a sound coming down the corridor stopped their quarrel. Thranduil tensed up, his face showed no sign of emotion but his eyes were wild with dread. Thorin was still angered; he didn’t know how they end up fighting over past things. He only knew Thranduil’s first betrayal was still fresh on his heart; Thorin was about to speak but Thranduil silenced him with a glance.

“They…They don’t know you are awake. Close your eyes.”

Thorin lifted his chin defiantly, he wasn’t about to close his eyes like a coward. His captors would learn who they were dealing with, Thranduil then did something that shocked Thorin.

“Please, close them.” With effort the Elven-King stood up placing himself between Thorin and the other side of the cell.

Thorin was reluctant at first, he observed for a moment and when the shadow of someone approaching appeared he closed his eyes.

“The Master demands your presence, Elf Filth.”

“I am not someone your _Master_ can command. If he so wants to see me he should come instead of sending filth like you to summon me.”

Thorin was tempted to smile when the orcs cursed Thranduil opening the cell. For a brief moment Thorin thought Thranduil had some sort of plan. Perhaps he thought the Elven-King would attack considering Thorin could help if the orcs still believed him unconscious.

However, Thorin was mistaken.

“I said move!” Thranduil fell to his knees when the spear the orc had in hand hit him straight on his wound. The Elven-King bit the inside of his cheeks as to not scream. The orcs laughed and pulled Thranduil out of the cell.

 

Thranduil stood up with difficulty, he was breathing hard, sweat was covering his face and still he stood proudly looking at the orcs like nothing more than trash. Thorin opened his eyes wide but didn’t say anything. He sat there watching as the orcs took Thranduil away.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thranduil was taken to a familiar room.

While he didn’t know how long they had been there, this wasn’t his first time in the room. The room was circular with only two doors and one throne overlooking a table and a set of instruments the Elven-King shivered as to what they were used for. It was here where his wound was made and when he tasted for the first time the horrors of torture.

In his mind, Thranduil was thankful for the fact the orcs had ignored Thorin completely. He was also grateful the dwarf had not say or done anything foolish. The wound on his head was still too fresh and a part of Thranduil feared what would happen if his captors knew Thorin was awake.

“Welcome back, Elven-King Thranduil.” Thranduil lifted his chin narrowing his eyes at the source of the voice.

It was old and filled with malice accompanied with the coldness of dead and desolation. Thranduil had never heard if before but he had known the creature by name and sight. It was like this he discovered where they were kept. Dol Guldur. And his captor a bitter survivor of the Battle of the Five Armies: Snaga.

Orcs were rarely this controlled, they usually went over for destruction and mayhem. But long ago had Gandalf and the White Council told Thranduil about the former tenant of Dol Guldur. If what they said was true, then Thranduil had no doubt Snaga was still following the orders of a weakened Sauron. Where was he? That Thranduil didn’t know and a part of him, the one remembering the First Ring War was thankful for that.

“Today you are going to learn humility.” Snaga smirked showing off pointy teeth, from one of the doors came four orcs, all of them wearing battle gear and a glint of malice in their eyes.

“You will regret every single thing you are doing to me, _orc.”_ Replied Thranduil with as much anger and threat as he could muster. Snaga laughed and Thranduil couldn’t help the scream escaping his mouth when a whip made contact with his wound.

 

“Strip him naked! Let’s see what hides behind the elven armour.” Thranduil lifted his face but a punch made him look down again. He felt his cheeks burnt in shame and anger, biting the inside of his cheeks he would not scream. He would not give the orc the satisfaction of seeing him weak.

Snaga neared him once the armour had been tore aside and the linen robe and leggings under it had been tore as well. Grabbing the Elven-King by his hair, Snaga pulled Thranduil closer to him. The Elven-King made a face of disgust when he smelled the foul-smelling breath coming from the creature.

“Do not think for one second I forget about the Dwarf.” Thranduil opened his eyes and Snaga smiled maliciously. “Today you will enjoy our hospitality again. But if you do not abide by my will, tomorrow I will feast on the dwarf’s body.”

“No!” Snaga laughed breaking Thranduil’s nose with his head.

“Let’s see if you can scream for me again.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin stood up minutes after the orcs had taken Thranduil, the King felt dizziness at first. Thorin walked slowly around the cell until his head stopped pounding and his sight was much clearer. The dwarf made his way to the cell door touching the material and examining every bar, every inch of the door and the stone around it.

However, his mind couldn’t stop going over and over to Thranduil. Was the Elven-King okay? Those wounds…were they for the battle or perhaps…A thought occurred to Thorin and suddenly the dwarf felt like a fool. What if Thranduil had been wounded while he was unconscious?

“I’m a fool.” He mumbled feeling dreaded in his heart.

Hours passed and with each hour Thorin grew worried. He stood up again passing around his cell, hitting the bars and the walls. He thought of Thranduil and Erebor, he felt desperation and was ready to scream and demand to see his captors when the door down the corridor open.

Laughter filled the place and Thorin moved to the shadows of the cell. In all honesty, he didn’t know what he was expecting. Perhaps, he was hoping to see Thranduil proud and regal walking among his captors with the same arrogance Thorin had always hate and admire.

Thorin stood there in horror and rage when they throw an unconscious Thranduil inside the cell. The orc form earlier sent an amuse stare at Thorin before leaving.

Thranduil was only on what the dwarf believe was a linen robe with leggings. They were tore and the wounds in the body had multiplied. Thorin went to Thranduil immediately turning him around with care.

“What…” he sputtered and suddenly Thorin saw red.

They had destroyed him.

There was blood all over his marbled face; his eye was swollen along with his nose. The split on his lip was larger; he had marks of whip on his torso and legs. Thranduil looked fragile, vulnerable and he was cold. Deadly cold.

Suddenly, Thorin felt a fear creep up his heart and a protectiveness over the Elven-King he had never felt before. With care he caressed the elf’s face and put his hair behind the pointy ear. Thranduil stirred but didn’t wake up, Thorin clenched his jaw promising a horrid dead to the one who had dare do something so…so horrible.

Without stopping to think about his reaction or why he was so affect, Thorin went to work. He took off his coat making a nice bundle he located under Thranduil’s head. He then proceeded to take his blue shirt off taking one of the sleeves to clean up the elf’s face.

Thorin didn’t know how long it took him this. His mind was concentrated on the task, his hand moved with care and ability. Thorin then opened the tore robe and clenched his teeth while cleaning up the cuts on the soft skin, his eyes then went to the wound on Thranduil’s side. It was rip open, the muscle and the skin had been tore apart but there was a black substance stopping the bleeding.

Thorin stood up and went to the farther and darkest part of the cave. There he found the stream of cold water, wetting the other sleeve of his shirt he went back to Thranduil. This time a gasp escape those broken lips but Thorin didn’t stop on his task. He cleaned every bleeding wound making sure to cover Thranduil as he did so.

Hours later, he was tired. The sleeves of his shirt had blood on them but Thranduil looked better. Thorin rested his naked back against the cold stone and clenched his fist closing his eyes.

Why did he do it? Why did he feel his heart break at the sight of the Elven-King, broken and fragile?

Thorin felt another headache approaching, he sent one last glance at Thranduil before closing his eyes to sleep a little. It wouldn’t do him any good to think about the Elven-King. He couldn’t allow it, not again.

Thranduil woke up to a world of pain and bleak atmosphere. He took a deep breath noticing his head was not on the hard ground. With trembling hands he helped himself to sit up slowly. Looking down at himself he saw a familiar shirt on top of him, his wounds had been cleaned and his left side had been wrapped with bits of his own pants. Thranduil turned slowly and saw Thorin resting against the cold stone. His chest was naked but otherwise the Dwarf seemed untouched.

Thranduil frowned turning around to see the coat Thorin had been wearing the day before. The Elven-King felt something warm him in ways he had forgot were possible. Thranduil felt shame mixed with rage at his own weaken state; it had never been his intention to incur in Thorin’s debt but, here he was wounded and being taken care of by the dwarf King.

But, there was a constant question in the Elven-King’s mind: why had Thorin done it? Thorin was not obliged to clean his wounds or look after him. Thranduil turned and was surprise to see Thorin looking back.

“How are you feeling?” The question caught Thranduil by surprised, he thought for a second before answering.

“I have felt better.” Thranduil hated his state, hated how weak his voice sounded. He lifted his head and with as much dignity as he could show he spoke again. “Thank you.”

“You did the same for me.” Said Thorin pointing at his head. “We are even now.”

Of course, a favour for a favour. From one King to another.

Thranduil should feel relief because there was no debt to be paid. Yet, he felt miserable. It was just a payment for a deed well done.

They didn’t spoke that day. Thorin for fear of another fight and Thranduil for fear of questions about his torture; something he was not ready to answer. The hours seemed to pass and Thranduil started feeling warm and weak. He didn’t say anything, instead returning the coat to Thorin and taking his place beside the dwarf. Thorin glanced at Thranduil letting the coat rest between them.

They would have spent the rest of the day like that if it hadn’t been for the dreaded sound of the door in the corridor open. Thranduil tensed up making the impossible to show down his fears. His eyes went cold as steel and his head lifted in defiance and arrogance. Thorin couldn’t do less than admire the sudden change and still, he saw it. He saw the broken glint in those eyes; he saw the quiver of Thranduil’s lip and the clenching of his fists.

This time Thorin was prepared, he stood up separating his legs the way he usually did when working at the forges. He put his hands behind his back and narrowed his eyes, never once showing weakness.

The orcs arrived promptly, four of them with pointy teeth and malice in their gestures. They laughed taunting Thorin with his words; their smirks were soon wiped out when Thorin hit the first orc and then a second one.

Thranduil opened his eyes in alarm; he went to help but another orc pointed his spear right to where his heart was.

“Go on, Elf. Give me an excuse and I promise you your blood would adorn my blade.” Thranduil shoot the orc a glare filled with hate while the others summit Thorin.

They said something in the dark tongue and the orc pointing his spear to Thranduil smiled, Thorin screamed curses and tried to hit another orc but something one of them said made him stopped. The one holding the spear hit Thorin on his head and the dwarven King fell down unconscious.

“You bastards…” growled Thranduil losing his composure. The orc smirked and grabbed Thranduil.

“Tell me, would you prefer we take the filthy dwarf in your place?” Thranduil tensed up shaking his head; the orc smiled and kicked Thorin to push him away. “Good, now move. Master wants to see you.”

When Thorin woke up he saw Thranduil was sitting up in the far corner of the cell. He tried to focus his eyes, holding his head carefully while making his way to Thranduil.

“What…” Thorin trailed off when he saw Thranduil was worse. His face was a bloody mess, he couldn’t move his left arm and he had a deep cut on his stomach. Thorin kneeled down narrowing his eyes, trembling hands moving to touch the elf’s face.

“What did they do to you?” Thranduil gulped taking a deep breath.

“N-Nothing I…I cannot re-resist.” Thorin shook in disbelief and anger, Thranduil was trembling and his voice was broken.

“You can’t resist it!” Thorin screamed and both of them winced, Thorin growled in frustration and went to the place where he had left the bloodied sleeve. He drenched it and then returned to Thranduil; locking his eyes with those of the Elven-King he started cleaning his wounds again.

Twice the orcs appeared in their cell and twice Thorin had been hit out cold and Thranduil taken away and tortured. Thorin was frustrated; rage filled his whole being every time they returned with a broken Thranduil to his cell. Thorin didn’t understand it, he should be relief it was not him. He tried to convince himself it was because no one deserved to be tortured in the Orcs tunnels. Still he always went to Thranduil and cleaned his injuries, tried to tend to the wounds the best he could. And something inside Thorin stirred every time, protectiveness came over him and he promised himself he would not let this happened to Thranduil again.

From his part, Thranduil was confused. It wasn’t only the tortured, it was the fact he always exchanged his well-being in favour of Thorin’s one. Thranduil was ready to sacrifice his own life to protect Thorin and the mere thought scare him more he cared to admit to himself. So, instead of facing this fact, he buried deep inside him and focused on the pain he felt.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin waited for his captors.

He glanced at Thranduil and then stayed still when he heard the door down the corridor opened. He waited, the orcs entered the cell and then he attacked them. He killed one of the orcs and, in rage, the other three submitted him and dragged him away between screams and the protests of Thranduil. Thorin frowned confusedly but he had already made a decision and this time around he would not allow Thranduil suffered the pain.

Snaga was quite surprised when he saw Thorin instead of Thranduil. Still, he smiled nastily and decided it was time to change his toy, the other one was almost broken and it wouldn’t be as fun as he knew it would be with the dwarf.

“Very well, then…let’s begin.”

Thorin resisted beyond the orcs expectations.

He was breathing hard with his hands grabbing tightly the bonds around his wrists. He heard the cold laughter of his captors and grunted when another slash was made on his feet. He felt the blood pouring from the wound and his mind clouding with the pain. He didn’t know how long had passed but he refused to let these orcs win.

Snaga smirked surrounding the table, tasting the dwarf’s blood and enjoying the pained gasp escaping that stubborn mouth.

“I have never had such honoured guest in this fortress.” He said voice taunting. “My Master taught me the ways to treat them, of course.”

There was laughter and Thorin couldn’t help the scream escaping his lips when something made contact with his cuts creating a burning sensation that travel up his body. Thorin gasped for air and in return received a hard slap over and over until he felt the metal taste of blood in his mouth.

“I never thought, of course, I will be housing two distinguish Kings.” More laughter, Thorin growled turning to glare at Snaga. “Of course, between you and me…The Elf gives me more _satisfaction_.”

Thorin growled lowly Snaga grabbed him by his hair putting his head up, Thorin tried to turn away from the rotten smell coming from the orc but the creature held him tightly.

“Perhaps, if you are good, I let you see how I defile him until his screams are filling this room.”

 

Suddenly Thorin felt fear wrapping around his heart, his eyes opened wide and Snaga laughed waving his hand. Thorin soon found himself screaming when wave after wave of pain invaded his mind.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin was brought back in better form than Thranduil the day before.

Still the dwarf had his feet render useless and he felt tired, his throat ached and his head was hurting badly. Once inside the cell he saw Thranduil lying unconscious on the ground. With dread Thorin approached him and saw new cuts and whip marks on Thranduil’s body.

“Bastards.” He mumbled when he realized there was dried blood on Thranduil’s head.

Thorin felt weak and incapable of taking care of himself and Thranduil. The dwarf touch Thranduil’s face fearing how cold it felt. Thorin knew he needed to take care of those wounds but he felt tired and cold himself. Putting Thranduil to him, Thorin wrapped his arms protectively around Thranduil resting the head of the elf on top of his chest.

 

Thorin rested on his back trying to control his breathing and blocking away the pain he felt. He focused his eyes on some spot on the ceiling; his hand moved distractedly caressing the elf’s hair. They were undoubtedly trapped and whatever the orcs were planning to do to them they would get to the point until they had broken them physically and emotionally first.

Thorin didn’t know how long they sleep.

However, they were woken up abruptly with someone hitting Thorin in the face and dragging Thranduil away.

Was it minutes? Hours? Days?

Once he was back, Thranduil had on a broken wrist and his back was filled with lacerations, the usually smooth skin was red and swelled up. Thorin neared Thranduil only to have the Elven-King shrunk whispering softly.

“No, no, no, no…” The word was repeated over and over again, Thranduil had his eyes closed shaking his head, shivering under the coldness of the cell.

Thorin stood there taken aback by the sight before him. He felt helpless with a hint of fear and protectiveness. He clenched his fist kneeling down hating the fact Thranduil tried to move away from his touch.

“What did they do to you this time?”

Carefully Thorin brushed Thranduil’s hair clearing the elf’s face. Thranduil opened his eyes with a wild glint in them he tried to move away only to scream out in pain. Thorin moved quickly stopping Thranduil for any more harm, trying to soothe the elf with his voice.

“Thranduil, stop this now.” Thorin saw as the Elven-King shook his head mumbling something in elvish. “Don’t! Stay still or you’re gonna hurt yourself!”

Thranduil stopped opening his eyes again, this time Thorin looked into those blue orbs and his heart break just a little. The pupils were constricted, Thranduil was sweating and he was hot to the touch. Thorin cursed for Thranduil had a high fever and whatever they had given the elf it had made him disoriented and irrational. Thranduil was still mumbling something when Thorin went to work.

This time around he made it possible for the Elven-King to be lying on his chest. The lacerations on his back would make it painful for the elf to be on his back, so Thorin went to clean the back with care. He didn’t count with any medicines or anything to actually help him. Still he work on taking care of Thranduil the best he could.

Thorin didn’t know why he did it not did he wondered too much about it. He just started singing. Softly and deeply, his voice filled the cell while his hands moved with care and affection taken care of the injuries on Thranduil’s back. His voice seemed to soothe Thranduil who stopped struggling and suddenly relax. This was all Thorin needed to tend Thranduil. He brushed slightly the wounds and trembled in silent fury when a whimper scape Thranduil’s lips.

Whatever the orcs had done they had almost broken the Elven-King. This was not something Thorin could take any more. He turned Thranduil around careful with the back, Thorin pressed a hand to the forehead and felt how warm it was. Thranduil still had a fever and Thorin was desperate looking for a way to lower the temperature.

“A-again.” Thorin gasped looking down to see Thranduil watching him. The wrist was swollen and had on an unnatural purplish colour. The Elven-King winced when he tried to move it and Thorin placed his own hand on top of the broken wrist.

“Stay still. They broke your wrist and you have a fever.” Thorin said forcing himself to keep a firm voice.

“Ag-again.” Thorin frowned.

“What?”

 

“Sing.” Said Thranduil closing his eyes forcing his breathing to even out; Thorin nodded and started singing again. This time pressing a wet cloth to Thranduil’s forehead.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The following days went in the same way. First they would torture Thranduil and then they would take Thorin. Over and over they were taken before Snaga and tortured in different ways.

However, Thorin had noticed whereas his treatment was more physical than emotional the orc seemed happy breaking Thranduil both ways. From time to time they would bring Thranduil drugged hallucinating or mumbling in elvish. Thorin also noted that, even though Thranduil was looking worse than him, the Elven-king never begged not for himself at least. Thorin had heard him whisper _‘no-no’_ over and over with a ‘ _him’_ thrown in once in a while.

Thorin would usually take care of him, he would sing softly about Erebor, about the mines and the beauty of the gems. Sometimes, Thorin would sing about food and drink, about the benefits of sleeping or smoking weed at the doorstep. On those times he would see the soft smile Thranduil would produce and then Thorin would sing about other things Bilbo had taught him once. He sang about the day and night, or the dinner and the second breakfast.

All the while he would tent to the wounds, the cuts, to the lacerations and the burns on the once marble skin of Thranduil. Thorin hated it. He hated it all and so, one day, after Thranduil had been brought to him with fresh tears in his eyes and something written on his chest with fire and blade Thorin decided it was time to leave their incarceration.

Like always, Thorin went to Thranduil this time the orcs had gone too far. Since Thorin himself had three broken fingers there wasn’t much he could do without hurting himself. He grabbed the same cloth he had been using so far and started cleaning Thranduil’s chest.  The writing was obviously elvish. How did the orcs know the writing? Thorin didn’t know and didn’t care. It wasn’t his main concern at the moment.

“ _Roads go ever ever on, over rock and under tree, by caves where never sun has shone_.” Thorin sang again, Thranduil seemed to like the lyrics from Bilbo’s compositions and so Thorin decided to sing those to the Elven-King.

This one had come after the adventure had ended and Bilbo had stayed in Erebor. With a heavy heart Thorin kept singing, cleaning Thranduil the best he could. His eyes used to the body, half naked, under him. In another moment, in another place he would felt the beginning of arousal pooling at his crotch. By now, Thorin had accepted the inevitable truth of his rage against Thranduil.

It wasn’t the fact Thranduil had turned his back the day Smaug attack. It wasn’t the incarceration of Thorin and his company on the quest to recover Erebor. It wasn’t even the fact Thranduil had almost sacrificed himself to protect Thorin and then fight alongside him.

It was the fact Thranduil would never return his affections. Why would he? Thranduil had always made it clear he despised the race of Durin, and Thorin was nothing more than a political ally. He hated the weakness of his heart, he hated that he could never stop thinking about the fair face of the Elven-King.

His fingers moved swiftly touching the wounds with care and affection as he cleaned them again. Little by little he tended to the broken Elven-King, not caring about his own injuries or pain.

“Thorin…” Thorin stopped suddenly lifting his eyes to look at Thranduil but the Elven-King was still in a state of unconsciousness and the word had escaped him like a whisper. Thorin felt his heart fluttered when Thranduil called for him again. “Thorin…”

“I’m here.” He whispered caressing the face of Thranduil. “I’m here.”

_“By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains of the moon.”_

Thranduil smiled softly his eyes fluttering open for a moment, admiring the sight of Thorin singing to him in the darkened cell. Thranduil closed his eyes again and slept with the sound of Thorin’s voice filling his soul.

Thranduil woke up hours later he discovered he had been lying on top of Thorin with the dwarf’s arms wrapped protectively around him. The Elven-King gulped feeling self-conscious about his position; he lowered his eyes and saw the name written in elvish characters. It was made to shame him, to make his longing and his feelings known to those capable of reading elvish. Thranduil clenched his jaw but there was no more will of fight in him. He was tired and his mind was a pool of confusion and fear.

Snaga had been right he was no worthy of the hands holding him tightly. Thranduil struggled against those arms and crawled away from them, his mind bringing back the laughter of his captors. Thranduil shook his head, biting his lower lip when he fell on his broken wrist. He moved hearing the voice of Snaga in his head

_A cold-hearted King that abandoned those he claimed to love._

_Who could love a fallen King?_

_Master remembered what a coward you were during the war._

_What did you do to stop the fall of Doriath?_

_Why love a filthy elf like yourself? Everyone eventually leaves you…_

His words were accompanied by those horrible images of his people burning in the fires of Mordor. The screams of the dwarves escaping Smaug, Thranduil turning his back on Thorin. Thorin looking at him with hate and repulsion. Then a cold, ethereal voice, filled with rage and hatred and the image of an eye, a dark eye with flames around it, a pool of nothingness filled with desperation.

Thorin woke up startled and saw Thranduil crawling away from him, breathing hard and holding onto his screams of pain. The dwarf sat up and moved to hold onto Thranduil but stopped dead on his tracks when Thranduil pushed him.

“No! No! More. Not real…” Thranduil closed his eyes tightly whispering over and over. “No real, no real …no real…”

Thorin stood trembling not knowing what to do, he was lost and he almost fell over when he saw the hunted look in Thranduil’s eyes. He kneeled pressing his hand to the elf’s forehead trying to calm him down.

“shhh, shhh, Thranduil, you have to calm down…” He whispered softly, made it a command but it seemed his words only made it worst.

Desperate Thorin started singing, soft words of nothing forming on his lips filling the emptiness of the room and little by little Thranduil calm himself. Thorin breathed a sigh of relief caressing the face of the Elven-King.

“What did they do to you?”

Thorin wondered this every time they brought Thranduil to him. It was as if the orcs had a personal vendetta against the elf for Thorin had realized whatever they did to him never was done to him. Thorin kept on singing and it wasn’t until he was on his third song he realized something. They hadn’t come for them.

Thorin stood up putting his coat on top of Thranduil; he walked to the cell door and looked outside. The hall was dark and the door at the other side was equally dark. He opened his mouth to scream but he remembered Thranduil was still asleep.

Frowning Thorin turned around limping to the far side of the cell, he looked for the familiar clot and wet it with the stream of water there. Once it was completely drenched he took it to Thranduil. With a care he had become familiar with, Thorin wetted Thranduil’s lips. He repeated this several times until the elf opened his lips and he could give some of the water gathered there.

While they received food and water it wasn’t usually something healthy or that they should eat in their condition. The water was sour and the bread hard and with mould, they sometimes brought meat but Thorin would be dead before he tasted any meat brought by an orc.

Thorin didn’t know how long he waited until he realized they would not come for them that day. Thorin didn’t delude himself; he knew it was probably another sick game to make them feel relief before they started with their torture again. Still, Thorin took advantage of this rest to think, and think hard he did for he went back to examine the cell door, the stone surrounding the cell and everything that could give him a sign they could make an escape from there.

Thranduil woke up startled shouting to the ceiling when he rested his weight on his broken hand. Thorin was beside him in the blink of an eye, the Elven-King searched with his eyes those of Thorin. He breathed fast mumbling something before lying down. Thorin touched the forehead feeling broken when Thranduil flinched at the touch.

“Sing to me.” It was but a whisper and still Thorin heard it. He could hear the broken spirit in that voice, the defeat Thranduil felt and Thorin suddenly felt anger.

“No.” Thranduil turned to face Thorin and Thorin was tempted to sing right there and there but he couldn’t. Thorin needed for Thranduil to come back, to wake up of whatever state he was in.

“I won’t sing to you until you fight.” Thorin stood up and shoot Thranduil a disdainful stare. “And you call yourself a King? Look at you, The Elven-King I know would never be defeated so easily.”

Thorin didn’t know of course of the deep torture Thranduil had gone through. He didn’t know of the whispered words through the drugs administered to him, not of the beatings or the punishment he received when he answered back. He could not possible know of the loss of senses when Snaga would blind him and Thranduil would only heard and see what the orcs wanted. Thorin could not possible know of the deep affection Thranduil held for him, not how it was used against the elf.

Thranduil opened his eyes wide turning his head to the side, his breathing increasing. Thorin kneeled down grabbing Thranduil tenderly by his chin making the elf look at him.

“Show me you are the Elf I’ve always known and…” Thorin trailed off here. And what?

“Please, please sing to me….sing to me…” Thranduil closed his eyes trying to free his chin from Thorin’s grasp. Thranduil started trembling mumbling over and over until Thorin let go of his chin.

“Thranduil, Thranduil…” Thorin called to him and the elf flinched he tried to shrink himself but in doing so made many of his wounds opened and hurt.

Thorin watched with horror as Thranduil tried to escape inside himself.  With a heavy heart Thorin sat down and started signing again. Softly at first, he watched as little by little Thranduil relaxed closing his eyes and giving into sleep.

Thorin woke up startled he heard the door down the corridor open but not footsteps approaching. He stood up as silently as he could moving closer to the cell door hidden away in the shadows. He glanced at Thranduil who was sleeping tensely, the burn letters on his chest shining in the dark.

“We shouldn’t”

“Stop being an idiot.” Thorin leaned closer hearing two orcs arguing at the door.

“Snaga warns us…” said the first voice but the second one laughed.

“Snaga isn’t here and I have needs only that filthy elf flesh can satiate.” Thorin clenched his fist tightly.

“He will die.”

“So what? Another elf less in the world and we will have our fun.” Said the second voice.

“What about the dwarf?”

“You can have him if you want. Dwarves don’t die if you rape them.”  Said the second voice.

“Why would I want a disgusting dwarf? I would prefer a turn with the elf.”

“That’s the attitude.” The second voice said and this time they started walking towards the cell. “Now be careful so we can take them by surprise.”

Thorin felt a burning inside of him, a rage deep into his soul that was itching to be out. Those filthy creatures, stupid as they were, deserved nothing more than burnt in the deepest fires of Mordor. Thorin was well aware of his state; he was thinner than he had ever been. He had on three broken fingers; he was tired, hurt and sore all over. But he also knew what he should do. He also knew if he didn’t take this chance they would…Thranduil would be…

_NO!_

Thorin remembered Bilbo saying to him once: _Never laugh at live dragons._ At that time, Thorin hadn’t understood it. He knew the hobbit had come up with it after he faced Smaug; but he couldn’t understand its real meaning. Not until that day.

As soon as the cell was open Thorin launched himself like a wounded animal to his captors. He hit, he punched he screamed and bite and did everything he was capable of doing. By the end of it all he had broken the skull of the orc who had spoken of Thranduil and his fingers were in a strange angle. His knuckles had blood on them and he was breathing heavily. Thranduil was watching with horror written all over his face.

Thorin lowered his head recovering his composure; he shook his head refusing to apologize for how he reacted. He took a deep breath and rearranged his fingers letting out a painful scream. He sat there for a few second and then remembering their positions he stood up. He held against the wall, weak at his knees.

“Come, we need to go now.” Thranduil sat shaking his head, closing his eyes again.

Thorin tried to not desperate, he looked back and then at the dead orcs. Who knew when they would have this chance again?  Thorin approached Thranduil and kneel before him taking his face between his hands.

“Open your eyes.” Thranduil hesitated fluttering open his eyes. The both of them looked at each other and then Thorin did something he never thought possible.

He kissed Thranduil.

It was a soft, tentative kiss. A touch of the lips, a silent promise, a hidden confession and deep a longing. He tried to tell Thranduil everything in the softness of his kiss, and Thorin’s heart skipped several beats when Thranduil responded giving in.

“Let’s go and I promise you I will sing to you until the end of days.” Whispered Thorin pressing his forehead to Thranduil; the Elven-King nodded tentatively standing up on weak legs.

Thorin grabbed one of the swords the orcs carried with them, he turned to Thranduil and decided for the moment was better to not give anything to the Elven-King. Thranduil looked tired, he had bags under his eyes and Thorin could see Thranduil fading away.

 

Taking a deep breathe they moved out.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin was getting desperate.

They moved slowly down darkened corridors, evading small guards and resting for they got more tired than they should in normal circumstances. Thorin would usually come closer to scream in frustration if he had not seen the look of utter desperation and fright in Thranduil’s face. In those moments his heart would clench and he would whisper softly in Thranduil’s ear, singing softly about the sun and moon. He would grab the healthy hand of the elf and kiss his knuckles asking for one more effort.

“It’s a game…” Had whispered Thranduil at one point, Thorin blinked in confusion but Thranduil had his own eyes close mumbling softly to himself. “It’s a game, a game…”

“Yes, yes, it’s a game. You and I are going to win and show all the people who didn’t believe in us we can do it.” Thorin whispered to Thranduil who nestled his head under Thorin’s chin.

“Could he have loved me?”

The question caught him by surprise and Thorin could not help but remembered the tale Kíli had told him about Tauriel and him. Kíli had been delusional at that time, poisoned by the black arrow. Thorin cupped the fair cheek and brushed his lips against Thranduil’s.

“You know I do.” He answered but a part of him told him Thranduil didn’t hear Thorin. “We need to move, come. Let me lead you out of this darkness.”

“I don’t see the point.” Whispered Thranduil. “Darkness is the only thing holding me together.”

Thorin tensed up, his hand closing strongly around Thranduil’s hand. He put the Elven-King up, his body helping the elf moved down the corridors to the closest stairs. They walked for what seemed like hours and Thorin was starting to feel dread at not having found a single obstacle. By now they should have encounter some kind of resistance, but this didn’t stop him from moving. Even more so if the process was slow due to his and Thranduil’s injuries.

From time to time Thranduil would beg for a rest and Thorin could not deny him for he too was in need of one. In those moments Thranduil would sort of cuddle close to him and rest, breathing softly and sleeping more than Thorin thought was prudent.

Was it normal for elves to sleep like that?

Thorin would wake Thranduil as softly as he could before continuing their journey to the closest exit. They found trouble after an hour of walking through the fortress; Thorin hid behind the wall and looked at the four orcs guarding the door. They seemed to be discussing something in the cursed language of them. Thorin counted over and over, his good hand grabbing the sword tightly. He turned around to see Thranduil glancing back at him, his blue eyes softened for a moment.

Thranduil seemed lucid for a moment, his good hand caressing the face of the dwarf in front of him. Thorin turned kissing the open palm and Thranduil gifted Thorin with a smile.

With a nod, Thorin made a sound cutting the orcs conversation and making them hurried to where they were hiding.

Thorin caught the first one by surprised cutting of his head in a clean slash. Thorin winced at the effort as another orc came from his right he staggered backwards and the sword made a semi arch in front of him. The orcs sniggered circling him, Thorin felt tired but held the sword tightly and launched another attack. This time he cut one of the orcs and the other two threw themselves at him, they would have caught him have Thranduil not appeared at the last minute. He grabbed one of the orcs smashing his head against the closest wall. Thorin smirked and with renewed strength thrust the sword forward piercing through the orc’s chest.  Thorin turned and was hit in the face with a shield, he fell to the ground dizzy for a moment but the orc was also hit by an angered elf.

Thranduil then slid down breathing hard holding his wrist against his chest. Thorin sat up and crawled towards him; he grabbed the Elven-King by the nape of his neck and crushed their lips together. Thranduil tensed momentarily then he surrendered and kissed Thorin back. They broke apart breathing heavily, Thorin smiled softly whereas Thranduil had his eyes still closed. He was imprinting the memory deep inside his head. Unbeknownst to Thorin, Thranduil thought this to be but a dream waiting to be awoken by the harsh reality of his captors.

Thorin stood up again holding himself against the wall before helping Thranduil on his feet.

“Well, they would certainly sing about this in the near future.” Mumbled Thorin. “ I don’t know what’s going on but we better leave now.”

Thranduil followed Thorin blindly outside the fortress. Thranduil’s first assumption had been erroneous. While they were near Dol Guldur, this was a section made by the orcs brought back by the Necromancer. The opening of the cave led to a steep road that went down a dark hill. The sky was dark signalling the night but there was no moon or stars reaching the place. Thorin moved carefully, at times carrying Thranduil on his back. It was not confortable for neither of them, and in reality in other circumstances they would look comical if not for the effort Thorin was making to take Thranduil out of harm’s way.

Thorin moved quickly resting only when his legs would pulsate in deep pain and tiredness. In those moments he would talk to Thranduil, sing to him as the Elven-King awoke looking up to the night.

“I’m cold.” Thorin frowned and turned to Thranduil who was suddenly shivering.

“Damn it.” Thorin cursed pressing his good hand to Thranduil’s forehead. He was burning up.

Thorin hadn’t been cautious to grab something from the orcs. A coat, a shirt, whatever would have worked to keep them warm during the cold night. Thranduil still wore his tore clothes and Thorin’s coat. Thorin put Thranduil closer to his naked chest and Thranduil cuddled closer. The dwarf frowned worriedly when he felt just how hot Thranduil was.

“ _With a sigh, you turn away. With a deepening heart, No more words to say. You will find that the world has changed forever.”_ Thorin looked down as Thranduil sang softly; his voice was clear and beautiful like the morning in a warm summer. It made Thorin’s heart beat a tad bit faster, his hand pressing Thranduil closer to him.

They rested for a long time until Thorin deemed it necessary to keep moving. He shook Thranduil awake and helped him out. Thorin almost died when Thranduil staggered nearing the edge of the steep. Thorin put Thranduil closer and they continued their walk, conscious of the burning fever consuming Thranduil.

They moved until they left the hill behind and entered a naked road with the sounds of the night filling the silence, and not light on their path. It was hours later, when the night was at its coldest point that they reached the edge of a forest. Here Thorin helped Thranduil to sit up and tried to wake him up.

“Thranduil, Thranduil I need to know…is this your forest? Is this the path to your forest?”

Thranduil tried to lift his hand wincing in pain when he lifted the hurt one.

“No, no…” Thorin said his voice dripping with tiredness. Thorin caressed Thranduil pressing his forehead to his. “I need to lower your fever.”

Thorin looked around him. Behind him had been the place where he had been kidnapped. Ahead of him was a forest and, while it looked just as sick as Mirkwood, Thorin could not afford a mistake. Thranduil’s life depended on it.

He turned around and walked slowly until he found a river. It was a small one entering the forest with fast and constant current. He touched it finding it cold but fresh to his throat. He drank until he was satisfied, Thorin turned to see Thranduil moving his lips. He frowned worriedly and decided to bring Thranduil to a clean source of water.

 Once Thorin had helped Thranduil near the river he made a place hidden from view where he and Thranduil could rest for the night. Tired and cold Thorin rest against Thranduil who soon enough was snuggled against him; Thorin smiled and wrapped his arm around Thranduil.

The strange warmness on his face woke him up. He jumped seeing the raven on a nearby branch. Thorin wrapped his mind around the recent events and he sighed in relief noticing he was, in fact, out of his prison. Thranduil was deeply asleep beside him, mumbling softly, sweating profusely.  Thorin ignored the raven that was looking at him with intelligent eyes and went towards the river. In the clear morning he now could see clearly the river entering the dark forest.

Tilting his head he considered his options. He needed to keep Thranduil alive and there was no doubt in his mind the Elven-King needed elvish medicine. Thorin passed his eyes around the terrain and suddenly he spotted a white flower.

He knew that herb.

He neared it and thank to Aulë his luck, cutting the herb carefully he pressed it to his nose breathing deeply.

“I think I found something that can help with your fever.”

“Why?” Thorin lifted his face to see Thranduil looking at him with confusion. “Why do you insist on helping me? Your enemy, the one who turned his back on you?”

Thorin was shocked he couldn’t say nothing as Thranduil turned his face away from him. For a moment none of them said nothing, until Thorin lowered his face tiredly.

“How could I not help the one who holds my heart in his very hands?” He finally said. Thorin stood up and turned his back to Thranduil whose eyes were following him until he kneeled in front of the river.

_Are you going to believe him, Elven-King? The dwarf who said you were a traitor? The one who obviously holds no love or affection for you?_

The poisonous words filtered inside Thranduil’s brain like water through the hands. Thranduil gulped closing his eyes again, feeling lethargic and cold. Thranduil opened his eyes when he heard Thorin’s voice. He felt inside a dream, smiling softly he obeyed the silent command of that voice. He tasted something sweet on his mouth, cold but refreshing.

“Now, I need you to walk with me.” The voice whispered and the sheer familiarity of said voice was enough to give Thranduil strength to stand up.

“Will you sing to me?” Thorin smiled bitterly.

 

“Yes, I will sing to you until the end of time.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thorin never thought he would find himself in such a situation. For so long he had denied his attraction to Thranduil. In the Halls of his father’s when he had been but a prince he had dreamt of touching such a beautiful creature. He had dreamt of taking him in ways the elf had never been taken. His childish illusions died when his grandfather had entered the gold-sickness and the truth about the nature of elves had been revelled to Thorin. Then, Smaug came and what Thorin tried to deny became a reality. Elves were treacherous creatures; they were not friends and could never love a dwarf.

It had broken Thorin’s heart and the young dwarf had thrown himself to a hatred easily manipulate and easily accepted than love. But Thorin knew his heart had never stopped beating for the Elven-King, this was one of the reasons why he was so angered when he fell in the hands of the Wood Elves.

Thranduil had stood there, proud and arrogant, holding the power Thorin only dreamt of getting back. He had spoken to him and Thorin had felt himself enchanted by him, and he hated it because Thranduil was not supposed to hold any power over him.

But now…what had changed? Thorin looked over at Thranduil and it made sense: he almost lost Thranduil. There was still a possibility of him losing Thranduil if he didn’t move faster and reach help on time.

Night fell quickly and Thorin and Thranduil were already inside the forest. It was darker than Thorin remembered, and this part of the land didn’t have any path he could follow, so Thorin had made sure to walk beside the river. There were moments in which Thorin didn’t know if Thranduil was getting better or worst.

By the time the stopped to rest Thranduil’s fever had lowered considerably. But the elf seemed so detached of the world. He seemed far away and when his eyes locked with Thorin’s ones there was emptiness there. Sometimes he would lift his good hand and touch Thorin then he would retreat it quickly and sighed sadly. There were other moments in which Thorin would touch him and Thranduil would look at him with disbelief and wonder.

“How was that song you were singing the other day?” Thorin asked suddenly one day. Thranduil turned to him lifting his eyes to the trees above them.

“ _With a sigh, you turn away, with a deepening heart, no more words to say you will find that the world has changed forever.”_ Thorin hummed along with Thranduil his eyes gleaming merrily searching for something inside Thranduil’s stare. “ _And the trees are now turning from green to gold and the sun is now fading I wish I could hold you closer.”_

Thorin kneeled in front of Thranduil, the Elven-King smiled at him but there was something broken in that smile. Then leaning in Thranduil brushed his lips against Thorin’s before moving away.

“I wish you were real.”

Thorin stayed like that for a moment before moving out. He looked around for something that could work as a plank to hold the broken hand of Thranduil to stop any more damage. Thorin felt heavy, tired his mind a pool of confusing thoughts; he found then something that could work. A semi-plain branch, lifting it up he went back to Thranduil who had his eyes on the trees.

“Once Kíli escape to the camp nearby to the gates of Ered Luin.” Commented Thorin while working on putting Thranduil’s hand on a splint; Thranduil tilted his head in such a familiar way Thorin smiled.

“He was a young lad, not more than eight years but he was fascinated by elves.” Thorin worked with one hand sending apologetic stares to Thranduil every time he touched the broken wrist, “He was not careful and in trying to observe the elves he fell down of a tree and broke his leg.”

Thorin frowned then tying up part of his trousers around the splint, “The elves they took care of him, heal his leg and then to calm him down gifted him with a bow and three arrows.”

Thranduil relaxed under the story-telling, Thorin’s voice had a soothing effect on him. Thranduil buried the voices inside his head trying to focus the attention on Thorin’s one.

“Since then he had always loved archery.” Thorin watched his work frowning he sat down fixing some walnuts he found. He wasn’t sure how edible they were but he wasn’t picky. “The bow he always carry with him is a copy of the one the elves gifted him. He broke that one hunting with Fíli.”

They ate silently, Thranduil making a face at the offering but incapable of refusing it. Thorin then stood up feeling his body protest at the effort he was making. They couldn’t risk being found by the orcs or something worse. He helped Thranduil stand up and they continued down the river.

 

Thorin took a step then another, his sight went blurry suddenly. He shook his head but before he could take another step he felt consciousness escaping him and then everything went black


	2. Rescue Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil can't fight on his own accord, the poison is consuming him little by little, Thorin is harm but he had found it in his heart the will to save Thranduil and Legolas...well, Legolas is watching the impossible unfolding right in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, hello! I didn't expect such positive comments on this story. I'm very glad you guys like it so far! Well, since this is for the fill-a-thon from the Hobbit Kink LJ I bring to you the second chapter. I struggle a little with this one and I seriously hope you like it. Once again, I apologize for the grammar and spelling mistakes and hope you enjoy the reading.
> 
> Thanks again for the comments!

**Rescue Me**

_Fire_

_Dead_

_Desolation_

_Loneliness_

_Desperation_

_Wherever he turned it was the only thing he could see, he felt desperation growing in his heart with every step he took. He felt the years living in Middle-Earth catching up to him, he felt tired and void. The voice following him wherever he went was right: He was lost, alone and forever empty. Darkness was growing back into the world and he would be a decaying King bounded to be hated by the one he had fallen in love with._

_He lifted his face to see the reflection of his own scars, his failures looking back at him. Then, as clear as day, it was Thorin Oakenshield looking at him disgust evident in his face. Thranduil could not voice the pain he felt when he heard the dwarf’s voice whispering his hatred towards him. The Elven-King heard and his heart broke with every word, every truth Thorin whispered to him just before he buried a cold blade straight into his heart._

_*****_

Fíli arrived just in time to see the healers from the dwarven Kingdom and the elves trying to calm the Elven-King. He shouted orders left and right while the head healers of the dwarves and elves took care of Thranduil. The Elven-King laid helplessly seizing up mumbling incoherently while giving in the fever and the poison filling his system.

The young prince rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly; once the crisis was averted he went back to his uncle room. There he saw Thorin recovering slowly wearing the marks of suffering on his body. Fíli crossed his stare with Kíli who had not left his uncle bedside. Both Durin’s heirs were worried for their uncle and even for the Elven-King. No one deserved to live through the suffering of an orc imprisonment and by the signs both Kings wore Thranduil had been the one suffering the most.

“King Thranduil is getting worst.” Fíli turned to Tauriel who had fresh tears in her eyes; she closed the door behind her making her way towards Kíli.

“I’m sorry. If there was anything we could do…” Replied Fíli tiredly, Kíli grabbed the elf’s hand kissing her knuckles tenderly.

Tauriel smiled softly shaking her head resting against the closest chair. “I just wished we knew what happen, what they gave to my King then perhaps…”

No one said nothing for everyone knew how precarious Thranduil’s situation was.  Ever since they found the Kings unconscious in the forest, Thranduil had been the one suffering through hallucinations and fever. His wounds had been slow to heal and his marks were the deepest and vicious ones. Thorin was in no better shape, of course. He had several broken bones, undernourishment, blood lost, and his knee had been harm but his fever and his confusion was not as deep as Thranduil’s one.

“How is the prince, Legolas?” Asked Kíli to which Tauriel could only show pain.

“He is desperate and…well, he is still angry and confused.” Fíli glanced at his brother who merely nodded.

Ever since they brought Thranduil and Thorin to Erebor after rescued them something about the letters branded on Thranduil’s chest had angered the prince. Not only him, of course. Tauriel had also spent the last two days just as angry as Legolas. But none of the elves had been kind enough to clarify the problem.

“Tauriel, can I ask you something?” Tauriel turned to Kíli nodding; Kíli shifted and then took a deep breath. “What was written on King Thranduil’s chest? I couldn’t help but noticed you and Legolas seemed…”

“They branded him, Kíli. Isn’t that enough humiliation?” Replied Tauriel angered, Kíli glanced at her but Tauriel softened a little before continuing. “But, of course, you’re asking what they wrote.”

“Yes. Legolas seemed rather upset by it.”

Tauriel went silent for a moment; she contemplated telling a lie but knew it would be useless. Sooner or later anyone would find out about it. Besides, they weren’t to blame for what the orcs had done.

“It says: Thorin Oakenshield’s property.” Kíli and Fíli were left speechless; they had horror written all over their faces their eyes turning to their uncle before turning to Tauriel.

“They…but…why?” Asked Fíli to which Tauriel merely shrugged with a sad smile. “Uncle would never…!”

“I do not know. But I know your uncle would never…that he is not to blame.” Tauriel glanced at the King then at Fíli. A part of her knew Thorin Oakenshield was not as vile or as evil as to do something like that, another part kept on wondering why write something like that. The question was: what had happened for the orcs to do the branding?

Fíli glanced at his uncle and wondered briefly what had happened to both Kings. It was a question hunting the dwarves and the elves who had founded them. Three days ago hope returned to Mirkwood and Erebor when they found their Kings only to have it strip away when they realized the state they were in. What had happened to them?

The young prince clenched his fists promising vengeance upon those who had dared to hurt his uncle. He turned his head to the side taking a deep breath before turning to Kíli and Tauriel.

“I think we should go.” Kíli opened his mouth to protest but his brother stopped him with a gentle smile. “Kíli all of us are tired and we need to eat. I believe we should make sure Prince Legolas is okay and then rest for a while before coming back.”

“I think your brother is right.” Replied Tauriel to Kíli who gulped nodding.

“Yes, I just don’t feel comfortable leaving him alone. If I hadn’t…”

“Stop. You didn’t leave him alone in the forest. He went on his own accord and the explosion did a mess.” Replied Fíli. “Come, I know you’re hungry and tired.”

Kíli nodded wrapping his hand around Tauriel’s one, the elf smiled at him and stood up. The three of them left the room and soon after silence and darkness took over the room.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes later Thorin Oakenshield opened his eyes letting out the breath he had been holding back. Thorin rested for a little while, his body getting used to him being awake and aware of the pain.

He closed his eyes remembering the smell of spring and rain, the smell of metal and smoke. He was home and his soul felt finally in peace. There were not words to describe how relief he felt and how anguish he was. While he pretended to be unconscious he had heard his nephew’s conversation with the she-elf.

Thranduil.

Thorin tried to move ignoring the blurs of light and phantasmagoric forms in front of him. He fought with what little force he had left in him, his mind wrapped in one single memory, treasuring one single name: Thranduil. Thorin rolled over, dizzy and hurt; he tried to stand up knowing what Thranduil needed.

His mind was a maze where all he could see was confusion and fragments of unwanted memories. Thorin clenched his teeth holding onto the exclamation of pain on his lips. He looked down to see his hand bandaged, wearing a warm white shirt and loose trousers. He was covered in bandages and strange salves with herbal aromas that made his body relax. The dwarf saw the heavy bandage around his knee; he saw the blood and could feel the pain coming from the knee. He never noticed the state of his body, not until now. Thorin stood on shaky legs holding tightly against the bed as he got use to his limbs once again. With determination, he started limping towards the door.

He didn’t have time to wonder why he was doing what he was doing. His mind had one thought, one single goal and Thorin moved towards it. Slowly but surely, resting when his body asked for it, feeling but ignoring his own injuries he walked out of his own room and finally got to the next one.

How different it was everything around him? There was light and warm inside the mountain, he heard faintly voices right at the end of the hall and the atmosphere around him was safe and brought the aroma of spring and the forges all mixed up. Thorin put his hands on the door pushing with all his force. The door crack but didn’t move, frustrate the dwarf did the same thing twice until the door finally gave in and he went inside the room.

Inside everything was dark but for the place where Thranduil was resting peacefully. The bed was in the far corner of the room, decorated with two silver lights falling on the fair face of the Elven-King.

Thorin choked torn between relief and angst. He neared the bed his eyes fixated on Thranduil, a need growing inside his chest that soon transformed in protectiveness towards the elf.

Thranduil King of the Woodland Realm was lying like the dead on his bed. He was paled, cold to the touch and void of any sign of recovery. His breathing was labored, his forehead had on a thin sheer of cold sweat. His left hand was on a splint; his lips were parted with his lower lip still showing the signs of tore skin.

Thorin clenched his good hand when his eyes finally fell upon Thranduil’s uncovered chest. Why had not they covered the inscription there? Why had they let it out there for everyone to see the signs of torture?

In his fuzzy state, Thorin could not see the faint greasiness of the salves applied to the brand. He could not see the letters were red and bleeding slightly, as if they had just been made.

_Thorin Oakenshield’s property._

Thorin followed the patterns of the elvish runes with his eyes, his mind screaming in rage at what had been done to Thranduil. He lifted his good hand taking Thranduil’s one in his. Thorin frowned at how cold the Elven-King felt against his own warm skin. He looked around looking for another blanket to bring warm to the elf. Thorin never felt nor did he sense the other presence in the room until he let out a cry of pain at being crashed against the closest wall.

Thorin opened his eyes to see an enraged Legolas right in front of him. Legolas had him trapped against a wall, his features tensed in a rictus of pain and rage. Thorin took deep breaths focusing his eyes while grabbing the wrist of the elf’s hands. They stared at each other and for that brief moment Thorin saw how much like his father Legolas was. They had the same length of hair, golden locks falling down on their backs held together by a single crown or a circlet on their heads. Those electric blue eyes that could be either cold like ice or warm like the summer sky; fair features on white smooth skin giving them an ageless appearance. Young but old at the same time.

“What are you doing here, _dwarf?”_ The last word was spat as if it was a curse or filth; Thorin frowned feeling weaken by his own injuries and the sudden attack.

“Le-let go.” He said hating how faint his voice sound. Legolas moved closer locking his eyes with Thorin’s ones.

Thorin focused his mind trying to find a way out of this situation. He felt helpless and his mind brought back the memories of the ropes around his limbs, the sound of evil laughter, the touch of cold and sharp metal on his skin. Thorin’s breathing turned labored and he closed his eyes shaking his mind to get rid of the memories.

Legolas was trembling in his own fury, he had seen this dwarf entered the room and then approached his father. The dwarf whose name was forever brand on his father’s skin. The same dwarf that had accused his father, a long time ago, of dishonor and treachery. After Smaug there had only been a tense relationship between Mirkwood and Erebor; Legolas would never understand why his father was so insistent in trying to deal with Erebor and made peace with their King. For Legolas, their dealings should only be courteous and business-related, but Thranduil was determined to forge something stronger with the dwarves. It was a work in progress plan when both Kings had been kidnapped by the orcs.

His father…Legolas held back a sob as he glared with rage at the dwarf.

“You dare to come perturb my father’s rest. Wasn’t enough for you to see him suffer? You have to come and gloat at his misfortune?” Legolas spoke and little by little Thorin understood what the elf was talking about.

“Tell me, _Thorin Oakenshield,_ are you enjoying the sight? Does it bring happiness to you knowing my father is broken? Did you enjoy it, King Under the Mountain?” Thorin tried to clear his mind, struggling against Legolas but the young elf had a nice grasp on him. “Did you enjoy hearing him scream? Did you laugh at his misfortune? Did you gloat? Tell me!”

When Legolas screamed his voice broke and the tears finally broke free from his eyes. The young Prince tried to compose himself but he felt tired and weakened, his hands released Thorin while Legolas fell to the floor hitting the stone with his fists. Thorin stood trembling before him, the elf on his knees was crying suddenly and Thorin felt awkward and inadequate.

The dwarf had never seen an elf cry. It tore his heart to see Legolas tears, to see the desperation in his eyes. Hesitating, Thorin approached him, Legolas tensed but the elf gave in when Thorin did the only thing he could think of: he hugged him. It took sometime but little by little Legolas allowed Thorin to hold him and Legolas himself returned the hug with tears still rolling down his cheeks.

Thorin opened his mouth but knew whatever he could say was useless. He never thought there was so much love between father and son, the few times he had seen them interact Thorin thought of their relationship as something cold and detached. How wrong he was. What other things had he overlook of the King lying on the bed in front of him?

They didn’t know how long they were like this. Legolas collected himself cleaning his face standing up. He looked aside with shame showing on the red of his cheeks, he made his way to a bowl filled with water and cleaned his face. Thorin gave him a moment of privacy, walking shakily to a close chair near Thranduil’s bedhead.

Legolas put his hands on the table organizing his thoughts, ready to face Thorin when his father let out an anguish cry. He turned around fast arriving to his father’s side at the same time Thorin did. Legolas was tempted to break the hand holding his father’s one but Thranduil was seizing up wildly, mumbling incoherently in elvish and the common tongue.

Thorin looked at Legolas desperate but the prince was just as helpless as the dwarf. He had seen it before and the only thing he could do was wait until it passed. Legolas heard his father’s mumbling, from time to time Thorin’s name would leave his lips but they could also heard things like ‘no real’ ‘no more’ ‘wake up’. Thranduil seemed to be holding a conversation with someone and as he spoke his angst grew.

Then, something else happened and Legolas was left speechless. Thorin started singing; he did so weakly at first, uncomfortable with the audience glancing at Legolas from time to time. Thorin sang softly his hand squeezing tenderly Thranduil’s one. Little by little, the Elven-King started calming and seeing the effect his voice had on Thranduil Thorin sang more loudly and firmly just as he had done while they were captured.

Legolas observed with incredulity in his eyes, his heart beating fast when his father started relaxing under the voice of the King Under the Mountain.  A few minutes later, Thranduil was looking differently. Not as tired or as sick but calm, he fell into a deep sleep with his breathing going back to normal.

“How…how did you do that?” Asked Legolas, Thorin shrugged evading the elf’s eyes.

“I…I did it while we were in the orcs dungeons’. It had a calming effect on him.”

 “Why?” The question was loaded with more than neither Thorin nor Legolas cared to admit out loud. Thorin could not answer so he remained silent humming softly.

Legolas watched both kings with a heavy heart. He saw Thorin getting tired, trying to keep his eyes open and his legs firm. The prince neared Thorin placing a hand on the dwarf’s shoulder making him looked up at him.

“You should rest.” Thorin frowned with a reply ready on his lips, but the dwarf thought better of it merely shaking his head.

“I won’t rest until I know he is okay.”

Legolas looked at Thorin for a long while, the elf tilted his head and his eyes showed just how tired and how thoughtful he was. Thon looked back with his hand firmly intertwined around Thranduil’s one.

Legolas nodded turning around to grab the nearest chair and placing it near Thorin. The dwarf nodded gratefully and sat down moments later he was fast asleep with his head on the mattress and Legolas watching them from afar.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

The dwarves of Erebor had fussed over Thorin’s waking.

Fíli and Kíli had been at his bedside wearing happy smiles and relief expressions when they saw their uncle again. Everyone had questions, but the conversations were held until Dís deemed Thorin’s state healthy enough to hold a meeting with the council and the elves of Mirkwood.

However, whereas the news of the King Under the Mountain were good; Thranduil of Mirkwood condition seemed to worsen by the minute. No one could understand why or how but, whenever Thranduil would suffer a seizure and speak with an unknown interlocutor Thorin would be at his side singing softly. It helped in ways many could not understand, Thranduil seemed to relax and give in the deep voice singing to him.

From time to time, the Elven-King would open his eyes and glance sorrowfully around him whispering his incredulity and wanting to go back to his own reality. The fever would be back and the weakening would worsen. The elves of Mirkwood had rested the responsibility of their kingdom in Thranduil’s heir, Legolas. The young elf would do everything he could but his own heart was heavy with grief over his father state.

Thorin was given a cane while his left knee got better. He walked around always ending up on Thranduil’s room. Between Legolas and Thorin the Elven-King was never alone. For the dwarves it was strange and even improper for their King to worry about a convenient ally; but Thorin would silence any opposition with a glare and harsh words.

Five days after Thorin had woken up; he sat on the throne and narrated what had happened to him and Thranduil. Elves and dwarves were present, all of them enrage and shocked at the treatment the orcs had provide to their kings without an ulterior motive.

As he spoke, Thorin was careful to keep for himself those brief moments in which he would sing to Thranduil. He didn’t spoke of those moments in which he took care of the Elven-King or how his feelings towards him had changed little by little. Thorin never told anyone about the kisses they had shared or the promises made during the imprisonment and their escape.

Once he went silent, Thorin found out he and Thranduil had been away for a month. A whole month of suffering and tortured, he also found out about a raid done near Dol Guldur which was the reason as to why their prison had been almost empty of orcs at that time.

“Roäc sent one of his ravens and he found you uncle. If it had not been for him…” Fíli trailed off. “After that we sent a group to where you were spot and we found the both of you unconscious.”

“Erebor was the closest and less dangerous road, so we brought you here.” Continued Tauriel to which Thorin merely nodded.

“King Thorin,” Thorin turned to an elf healer, the male was serious looking at him with furrowed brows. “I’m sorry to ask this but, do you know why they didn’t use the same drug they used on King Thranduil on you?”

Thorin shook his head, his eyes hardening. “No, I do not. And believe me Master healer I would gladly tore the place if I knew this would help Thranduil’s recovery.”

Not many doubt the veracity behind Thorin’s words; what had happened to both Kings seemed to create a bond between them. No one questioned Thorin’s motives to keep giving the elves refugee or when he ordered every scholar and healer in Erebor to help the elves find a cure for whatever Thranduil had on his system.

It wasn’t until night had fallen and he had noticed Thorin absence that Legolas decided to go to his father’s room. As he had expected, Thorin was there and it didn’t surprise Legolas to see the dwarf tending with care his father’s wounds.

It had become a ritual for the dwarf to seek out his father’s company. Legolas would try to make his presence unnoticed and he would watch hidden in the shadows as Thorin cleaned his father and spoke to him softly. Sometimes Thorin would tell Thranduil something random, something that had happened to him in Ered Luin. Some other time he would narrate a well-thought story that would make Legolas smiled. Most of the time, though, Thorin would sing and in those moments Thranduil would allow himself a tiny smile.

Thorin was cleaning Thranduil’s chest, the wet cloth moving swiftly above the burning brand. Thorin was careful with his hand as he cleaned the wound; he took the ointment on top of the closest table applying some to his fingers. His hand hovered on top of the naked chest when a cold, trembling hand closed around his wrist.

Thorin lifted his face to see blue eyes looking back at him.

Thranduil focused his eyes on the form in front of him, a glint of recognition crossing his eyes when he recognized the blur in front of him. No one said or did anything for a long while, Thorin felt his heart beating fast in relief and affection whereas Thranduil felt something inside him broke.

“W-wh-why?” He stuttered and fear gripped Thorin at how weak and far away Thranduil sounded.

“You’re awake.” Whispered the dwarf grabbing Thranduil’s hand gently, the elf shook his head closing his eyes, a gasp of pain leaving his lips.

“Why?” He repeated the question his face falling and his eyes void of any emotion.

Thorin frowned moving closer to Thranduil, his hand pressed gently on the elf’s chest. Thranduil blinked with misery written on his features.

“Why what, Thranduil?” Thranduil gave the dwarf a broken smile.

“Why can you not be real?”

After days and days of not being conscious, after watching the suffering consuming him Thranduil was finally awake and these were his first words. Legolas had not moved from the spot he was hidden in. He watched with a conflicted heart as Thorin caressed his father’s hair tenderly, he saw how Thorin approached the Elven-King whispering softly.

“What can I do to convince you I am real?” Thranduil sighed and his good hand cup tenderly the face of the dwarf.

“Nothing.” Answered Thranduil and suddenly Thorin was kissing him. A brush of lips, a tender promised in the midst of confusing feelings and realities. Thorin kissed Thranduil on his lips, on his cheek and his forehead, whispering sweet things while asking for Thranduil to just fight and wake up.

“Sing to me.” The plea left Thranduil’s lips and soon enough Thorin was singing to him.

Legolas stood in the shadows wondering what just happened unable to move or react, merely giving in the sound of Thorin’s voice in the room.

******* 

_The dream was different this time around, he knew it the moment he flared his nostrils at the familiar scent. It was something he had perceived the very first time he had paid homage to Thrór way before everything had become a mess of darkness and misunderstandings._

_Thorin had stood proudly side by side to his father and his grandfather, a part of the young prince ignorant of what was really happening between the kings. Thrór had mocked Thranduil with the possession of Elvish jewelry, and Thranduil was forced to sign the alliance if he so want peace to be kept between the kingdoms. Unfair payment and growing greed from Thrór had brought rage and indifference to Thranduil._

_He was making his way to the rooms offered to him when he crossed paths with the young prince. Thorin had been young, with jet black hair, growing beard, wearing blue and silver with the fire of youth in his eyes. Thranduil had admired the wild, untouched beauty of the prince and the first impression he had engraved in his mind was the scent of burning balsam along with new leather with and unique soothing earthy aroma._

_Their eyes crossed and Thranduil could read the curiosity Thorin felt for him. But something different, deeper, stirred in Thranduil’s own being. He had not felt this way ever since he was an elfling looking for adventure, it went beyond curiosity and desire, it transformed in something unmentionable once he got to know Thorin._

_The memory of their first meeting was fresh in Thranduil’s mind and it soon changed into a darker picture. The Elven-King did not remember this particular moment; his mind was confused as if he had really lived it or if it was another mocking from his enemies._

_Thorin smirked darkly at him, grabbing the golden hair harshly between his hand putting roughly making Thranduil gasped in pain. The dwarf leaned in with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, then Thranduil saw it._

_A ring._

_A single ring with a blue jewel on it adorning the otherwise naked hand of Thorin._

_“The master has brought me a fine gift.” Thranduil trembled at the voice, it was Thorin’s voice but distorted by something dark. “The Elven-King is finally at my feet, ready to pay for his crimes.”_

_Thranduil opened his eyes and suddenly Thorin was there singing to him. He felt weary not knowing which part was real and which one was a dream. Thorin leaned in placing soft kisses on his mouth, his cheek, his forehead. Silent promises of something Thranduil had always thought impossible. He wished it was real, he wished he could wake up for he could sense himself fading away little by little._

_“Sing to me.” Had been his request and he could not hide his smile when Thorin started singing again._

_******_

The news about Thranduil awakening was received much as Thorin news. Everyone seemed happy and only few understood the gravity of the situation. Thranduil had woken up, yes. But the Elven-King had shown signs of delirium; he didn’t seem to realize what was real and what was not.

Sometimes he would speak shakily to them, refusing to even lift his eyes. Some others he would sound almost normal, tired and still hurt, but normal. He would recognize Legolas and his eyes would gleam warmly at the sight of Thorin. But it was no secret to anyone that Thranduil needed a definite cure or else he would be lost.

Thorin was speaking to the healers about what little he could remember of their imprisonment. He would also speak of the effects his singing had on Thranduil.  By now the Elven-King was resting peacefully, sleeping but not unconscious. Legolas could not tear his eyes away from the dwarf while the healers heard with care what little Thorin could tell them.

One of them, the oldest healer form the elves nodded his head gravely looking over at his lord and then at the young heir.

“My Lord Legolas, I believe I may have a solution.” Thorin and Legolas perked up, both looking intently at Lannian who looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“What is it? What can you tell us to help my father recover?” Lannian hesitated for a moment then he spoke firmly.

“Athelas is a good beginning to the process of cleaning the King’s wounds.”

Legolas nodded understanding, athelas was a rare herb and the little storage the dwarves or even the people of Dale had was dry or not fresh enough to do much with it. Not even in Mirkwood they found the herb as abundantly as they could in places such as Minas Tirith or the places were the Dúnedain travelled.

“We have determined the poison was applied to the brand those vile creatures did to the King due to the freshness of the wound.” Legolas clenched his jaw nodding urging Lannian to hurry his explanation. “This could only mean the poison is still there affecting the King little by little. If your majesty were to gather fresh athelas along with the yellow flower of a Mallorn tree perhaps…”

“That’s impossible.” Replied Legolas with his heart dropping in defeat. “For such a thing I will have to travel to Lórien and hope for Lord Celeborn’s mercy.”

“I don’t get it. Dale has this herb you speak off. Why is it not working?” Lannian glanced at the other elf and then at Legolas. It was Oín, however, the one to answer the question.

“They’ve done what they can, Thorin. I’m sorry to say this but it is not enough.” Oín fidgeted unconfortable, he remembered Tauriel and the time she had cure Kíli and still he could not understand why it had not work in the same way with King Thranduil.

He had seen the healers do the same thing over and over to the King but, perhaps they had forgone something.

“We think it could be because while there is kingsfoil in Dale, it may not be fresh enough. It is after all an herb that grows in special places and the storage Dale has is from home-made gardening.”

Thorin frowned not really getting the explanation, in his heart it was just an excused to the incompetence of the healers. He was growing desperate for he sensed soon enough his singing would not be enough to bring peace to Thranduil.

“And, what about this yellow flower? Why do you need it?” Lannian answered this time, looking safe sharing this part of his knowledge.

“The Golden Forest is one of the few places where the hearts of the Elves could rest in peace. The trees are alive and the live they contain, if given freely, could help in the healing process of some deadly wounds.”

 Thorin raised an eyebrow not sure if he should believe the elf, the healer smiled at him. “Believe me, King Thorin. If Lady Galadriel were to give you the flower along with some of the Athelas I know grow there, King Thranduil could have a possibility of living.”

“Then, what are we waiting for?” Legolas turned to Thorin enraged for a moment.

“You do not understand.”

“I don’t care. I will tear that place if I have to.” Legolas glanced at Thorin with open eyes, dumbstruck at the determination in the dwarf’s face. No one said anything, and the elves suddenly felt very uncomfortable.

Legolas locked eyes with Thorin and the both of them seemed to have a silent talk with each other. Fíli, who was observing everything from afar, was quite shocked himself. He had noticed, of course, the sudden change his uncle suffered regarding the elves, specially their Elven-King. He had spoken of the matter with his mother and his brother and the three of them had come to the same, if confusing conclusion. Now, more than ever Fíli was convinced they were right. Thorin had fallen in love with Thranduil and the young prince was unsure if this was a good or a bad thing.

Legolas felt a light of hope in his heart, he saw Thorin and suddenly he realized they could save his father. He could trust Thorin and thus he did. Legolas turned to Lannian and the other healers.

“Very well, then I will bring the flower from the Mallorn tree and fresh athelas.” Legolas straightened up silencing any protest coming his way with a single glance. “Make sure, Lannian that may father resist until then. I will be as swift as an arrow.”

“Very well, what we will need for this?” Asked Thorin grabbing his cane with force.

Fíli held back a groan when his uncle said that, he sensed a heavy headache approaching for he did not fancy the oncoming storm.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The storm was strong but not enough to deter Thorin’s determination.

In no time and under the disapproving stares of many of the dwarves of Erebor Thorin left the mountain with Legolas. Fíli was left in charge of the Lonely Mountain and the care of Thranduil.

At first, Legolas wanted to fight. He did not think it appropriated for Thorin to come with him. It wasn’t only the fact he most probably would not be welcome in the Golden Forest, but also because of what he had seen in the privacy of his father’s room. Legolas in reality didn’t know how he felt with the knowledge of what had happened that day.

Still, the King had not allowed anyone to stop him and thus the both of them part the next morning at the first lights of dawn. By the late hours of the afternoon they had already crossed the city of Dale without speaking much or stopping but for a few minutes. Not word was crossed between them and both dwarf and elf were content with the silence.

The moon was high in the sky when they stopped to rest for the night. Thorin set a fire putting some dried meat from his backpack, he stretched his left leg holding back the wince of pain. Legolas sat nearby with his eyes focused on the fire. The silence was only broken by the creatures of the wild, the howl of a wolf or the song of an owl. The night was cold but the fire was enough to provide warm for the night.

Legolas lifted his eyes to observe Thorin; the dwarf was eating slowly with his eyes up in the sky. The young prince hesitated clenching his fist at his side before breaking the silence.

“I saw you kiss my father the other day.” Thorin tensed up glancing at Legolas with daring eyes. Legolas sat there curious, confused and slightly protective of his father.

“Are you going to hurt him?” Legolas asked with a tilted of his head showing just how young he really was.

“No, I’m not.”

“You hate him. You loathe him.” Legolas said in an even voice, not bothering to lift the tone for he was not looking for a fight. He just wanted to make sure, to clarify the confusion born out of the kidnapping of the Kings.

“Why would you chase after his affections? Why did you kiss him when he was delusional?” Thorin stared back at Legolas for a long time and Legolas waited for the answer.

Legolas didn’t hurry any answer; he waited hoping the conversation would end up clarifying what he had seen. Thorin thought for a long time about those questions and his own actions. Why had he left his duty on Erebor to hunt down for a cure for the Elven-King? Why did he sing whenever Thranduil asked it of him? Why had he kiss those cold lips and poured all the warm he could while doing it so? Why was his heart beating for the sight of the Elven-King well ad smiling at him?

Thorin was no longer in the dark dungeons’ of the orcs; he was no longer alone with his thoughts, his confusion and his own form of denial. The dwarven King dwelled about his reasons when alone. His answer had always been the same: Thranduil had won his heart on their first meeting.

But it wasn’t until now, almost sixty years after that first encounter that he had allowed himself a glimpse of hope, the possibility of something happening. Still, Thorin knew if he were to help save Thranduil’s life there was no guaranty of a happy ending for them. He wasn’t even sure Thranduil was truthful and not simply delirious.

“I cannot answer those questions for I found myself incapable of explaining my feelings.” Legolas narrowed his eyes but didn’t interrupt merely allowed Thorin to continue on his ow accord.

“I also think some of this question should be answered to him rather than you. Even if you are his son.” Thorin then sighed shrugging. “However, I understand your concern so all I can tell you is this.”

“I’ve always felt drawn to Thranduil, ever since we first met. He has always been someone I could not reach regardless of my position and my wealth.” Thorin broke into a half smile. “I was hurt for his refusal to help us when Smaug came but I never hated him. I couldn’t. However, it took this entire situation for me to realize that perhaps my animosity was linked to my…my attraction to Thranduil.”

Nothing else was said that night. But Legolas made it his own task to find out just how deep Thorin’s affection for Thranduil ran.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Kíli made sure everything was in order in the healing wing of the mountain. He ordered some dwarves to bring food and drinks and set them inside the Elven-King’s room. Tauriel watched everything with affection gleaming in her eyes, helping whenever Kíli allowed it.

Thranduil had been in between consciousness and sleep. The few times he had woken up he had asked for his son and for Thorin, but in those times it was either Fíli or Tauriel the ones to answer the King.

Everything seemed set, night had fallen and everyone was getting ready to go to bed. Kíli glanced at Thranduil turning to the door to see Fíli entering the room.

“How is he?”

“Still asleep.” Kíli shrugged watching Tauriel changing some of the bandages just as Oín had taught her.

Fíli approached the bed observing Thranduil with critical eyes. He had grown hearing about the betrayal of the elves, how treacherous they were. He remembered Thorin advising them to never trust those _pointy-eared bastards_ for they would turn their backs on you when you needed them the most.

Sometimes the brothers would think their uncle was exaggerating. Which he was.  But after an honest talk with her mother and even a more honest chat with his uncle, Fíli had understood Thorin was hurt. But his hurt was due to feeling he couldn’t understand nor express correctly.

Thranduil stirred taking a deep breath before opening his eyes; he looked around until he finally set his blue eyes on Tauriel then on Fíli.

“I…I’m thirsty.” Kíli smiled at his cleverness when he stretched his hand to pour some water on a cup. He took it to the King and Tauriel help her King sit up properly.

“Th-Thank you.” Kíli pursed his lips looking back at Fíli, the brothers were not used at seeing Thranduil this weaken. They remembered the Elven-King who had sent them to his dungeons’ when they dare to cross his forest. They could also recall the warrior who had stood up in the battle against the orcs and had slain them left and right with ferocity. They remembered how he had saved them and their uncle.

This was not that Elven-King.

Thranduil drained the cup completely setting his head against the bedhead shivering. He opened his mouth and then closed it again.

“Am I still in Erebor?”

“Yes, you are.” Replied Fíli. “And you will reside in these walls until my uncle returns with what is needed to cure you.”

Thranduil tensed up, pursing his lips he opened his eyes to look over at Fíli. Already he was starting to sweat again, his chest was burning and he was losing the clearness of his mind. Still he fought; he fought and try to hold onto the reality before going back to the darkness of his dreams.

“Wh-what?” Fíli nodded nearing the bed and sitting down on the closest chair, the one his uncle usually used. They had gotten used to this, to Thranduil forgetting what they told him. Even when he and Thorin spoke the Elven-King wore an incredulous face hearing Thorin had gone to such lengths to save him.

“My uncle left early this morning. He and your son went to the forest of Lórien to seek some kind of flower and herb to clean the poison consuming you.” Fíli tilted his head frowning at the strange expression on Thranduil’s face.

“Yo-you must be lying.” Thranduil crossed his eyes with his face contorted between sorrowed and angered. “Th-this must be…another cruel dream.”

“It’s not!” Tauriel opened her eyes at the sudden outburst from Fíli.

Thranduil shook turning his head away from the dwarf, but Fíli clenched his fist and started talking again.

“My uncle almost lost his leg and his fingers while trying to pull you out of the orcs’ dungeons’. He dragged you half dead out of there and made sure to care for your wounds while he was losing blood and any feeling on his leg.”

Thranduil kept glancing away from Fíli but he heard carefully at every word, his eyes filling with tears when the young dwarf narrated how they found them. How protective Thorin was of him after he woke up.

“And right now my uncle is walking into a forest where my kin is hated only to make sure you live.” Said Fíli surrounding the bed to face Thranduil who this time around could not look away. “Please, King Thranduil, do not believe for an instant you are dreaming because my uncle is out there ready to rescue you even if that means he would lose himself in the process.”

Thranduil laid there for a long time mussing over what Fíli said, then he nodded weakly and his heart and soul longed to ear Thorin’s voice singing to him. Then, he opened them and turned slightly to the room. His felt his head heavy, and his chest burning but he accommodated himself yearning for relief.

“I need water.” He said and Kíli smiled again bringing another cup of water, he tried to give it to Thranduil but the Elven-King was incapable of holding it correctly. Fíli grabbed the cup and then allowed Tauriel to help Thranduil drink.

“Wh-why…why are you here?” Thranduil finally asked and Fili and Kíli raised their eyebrows surprised by the question.

“Is obvious, isn’t it?” said Kíli to which Thranduil blinked confusedly. “Uncle asked us to make sure you were well and that you resist until he is back. Sand that’s why we’re going to do. To keep you fighting until he has returned.”

Thranduil looked even more confused but he nodded accepting the explanation, Fíli then sat down and pulled out a flute, Kíli smirked putting out an harp this only brought confusion to the Elven-King’s face.

“We cannot sing, you know? But at least, allow us to replace uncle’s voice with our instruments.”

Thranduil felt his lips crack the smallest of smiles whereas Tauriel seemed grateful at the brother’s gesture. She glanced at her King and saw as he closed his eyes enjoying the melody coming from the instruments.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? I bend some facts about Athelas and Lorien but all In good faith and in no way trying to mock Tolkien's work. 
> 
> Anything you would like to add or see next chapter? I'm still working on it but open to suggestions.  
> Thanks for reading,by the way!


	3. Tell Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thorin has to say it or else it is meaningless.

**Tell Me**

Rain fell upon the ground with a vengeance, the cold wind of the storm blew violently taking with it leaves and young trees. The watchers standing on the observation tower had long ago hidden away from the storm and the mist in the valley made it impossible to see far away. The day was cold and gloomy, Fíli stood at the gates of Erebor feeling the warm from the mountain on his back. His eyes were fixated on a spot invisible in the distance, his thoughts wandering to his uncle and the difficult quest he was trying to accomplish.

Three weeks since Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, left to try and reach the Golden Forest. Fíli had taken his duties with seriousness and responsibility allowing himself moments such as this to wish his uncle good luck. Not many had liked the King’s decision, many had tried to fight it but Thorin had been adamant to listen to them. Fíli could not fight his uncle for Thorin had always been a dwarf of word and duty. Thorin had dedicated his life to protect his people, to try and bring them back home; this time around his uncle deserved a moment of selfishness to bring himself some happiness.

Fíli felt movement behind him, tensing slightly he waited until a young dwarrow stood behind him bowing slightly.

“Lord Fíli, your presences is required by Healer Oín and the elf Healer.” Fíli furrowed his brows in worry nodding briefly.

He arrived to Thranduil’s room; Tauriel was clenching her jaw while she watched the male elf attending to the growing fever from the King. Oín approached Fíli shaking his head.

“He is getting worse. I’m afraid Thorin is not going to be on time.”

“Don’t say that, Master Oín. Please, I don’t think uncle would bear it.” Oín sent him a strange look.

“Too bad these elves can’t do the same thing Kíli’s love did to him.” Mentioned Oín.

Fíli nodded with his thoughts wandering to the conversation. They had witness a moment of complete weakness from the Elven-King, Fíli was reminded of his brother and his delirious state during their stayed in Dale. Tauriel had saved him at that time, but the way she applied the elvish medicine had been special. Tauriel had explained to them what she did then was out of concern and a longing of her heart.

_There are some wounds that can only be cured through love._

Fíli pursed his lips while observing the Elven-King who was now sleeping, the healer and Tauriel were speaking softly looking worriedly at the elf. _Love_ what a ridiculous notion to think there are some things only that feeling could cure. The young prince knew his uncle care for Thranduil, but Love? How plausible could it be?

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Legolas glanced curiously at the dwarf who was walking left and right, mumbling softly to himself while glaring impatiently at the outside. They had stopped at a small cave at the hillside of the Mountain of Mirkwood. For three weeks they had done the impossible riding hastily through the valley of Dale, the outskirts of Mirkwood until they reached the mountains leading to the southern entrance of the Golden Forest.

The road had not been easy; they had found bandits and scouts of orcs to which Thorin would usually answer with violence and destruction. Legolas had never seen a dwarf fight so earnestly as Thorin had done. It was something to be admired and, begrudgingly, Legolas had done so.

Very few words had been crossed between them; the little they had spoken was usually related to what route should they take or about food or things like that. Ever since that first time, they hadn’t touched the topic of Thorin’s feelings towards Legolas father.

“The weather is not going to change only because you glare at it, Thorin.” Said Legolas sitting cross-legged glancing at the dwarf calmly.

Thorin turned to him with fire in his eyes, “How can you be so calm when Thranduil may be suffering and we are resting here?”

Both males opened their eyes in surprised at the sudden outburst; Thorin stopped his passing dropping on the ground with his back to the stone wall. Legolas looked over at Thorin swallowing his pride as to no answer rudely at the dwarf.

“You do not know how I feel.” Thorin didn’t look up when Legolas spoke, he merely stared at the ground listening. “My father…he used to cure my wounds when I was an elfling, and even when I grew and hurt myself he would take care of them. Now, when it’s my turn I am useless. I am an unfitting son.”

When Thorin met Legolas eyes the young elf was sitting straight, with his chin lifted but with saddened eyes. The King fidgeted pursing his lips incapable to find the correct answer to this revelation. He played with several ideas in his head, trying to see what could be the best way to direct the conversation. The sound of thunder resounded through the cavern; Thorin looked outside with his heart beating nervously.

“I was not aware of this. I shouldn’t insinuate that you do not care for Thranduil’s well-being.”

“I wonder, though, why do you care so much?” The same question, over and over went through Thorin’s mind. He knew the answer, of course but evaded voicing it with professionalism.

“Does it matter?” He replied tilting his head to look at Legolas.

“It does to me. What you are doing…I won’t allow anyone play with my father. No one understands how the heart of elves works and this usually ends bad for us.”

“Do you not believe us, dwarves, capable of love?” Thorin retorted bitterly, Legolas was puzzled for a moment, surprise at the used of the word.

The horse and the pony whinnied nervously when another thunder resounded in the sky, lighting falling nearby. Thorin jumped startle grabbing the hilt of the sword beside him, he clenched his jaw hating the memories of his incarceration overwhelming his mind.

“I haven’t had any experiences with dwarves and love.” Said Legolas, the blond furrowed his brows thinking for a moment. “I have heard the stories of how dwarves favored treasures, gold and jewels above everything else…”

“It does not mean we cannot love.” Thorin grumbled annoyed.

“So, you love my father?”

Legolas gauged the dwarf’s reaction; Thorin tensed turning his head away from the prying eyes of the elf. Thorin felt his heart accelerate at the thought of Thranduil, how fragile he had looked, the sound of his voice asking for help. The silent requested for a song. Thorin felt his heart beating at the mere memory of Thranduil, soaring with need and protectiveness.

“I believe the rain is going to stop soon then we can continue our journey.” Said Thorin never answering the question. Legolas narrowed his eyes but didn’t press the matter. He could wait; eventually Thorin Oakenshield would answer to him if he ever wanted to start any courting of his father.

*******

It hadn’t stop raining but dwarf and elf exited the cave and continued the journey. Thorin had been right, Legolas would not stop too long for his father’s life was in danger. He and Thorin weren’t so different after all; both of them were tired but would continue on the journey for the only thing capable of stopping was dead itself.

Thorin looked behind him, the Mountains of Mirkwood were outline in the distance but the rain was insistent and cold stopping the normal progress of the two royals. There was still a long way until they reached the Old Ford and neared the River Anduin at which point they would take the route of the river until they reached the forest. It was a long way and Thorin felt his heart heavy with worry, his mind going over and over to the sick figure of Thranduil needing something to save his life.

In all this time, he had wondered why the orcs had taken it upon themselves to hurt the elf in such a way. It was still a mystery to him, and Thorin knew a part of Legolas reproached him this. The King Under the Mountain rode alongside Legolas hurrying his pony while wishing his thoughts could reach Thranduil.

“I think we should ride down the path leading to those hills and rest for the night.” Legolas commented over the sound of the wind, Thorin glanced but his eyes were not as keen as the elf’s ones’.

“Is it too far?” Thorin asked to which Legolas narrowed his eyes tilting his head.

“Twenty maybe forty minutes on horseback.” Legolas sighed hating the weather and the delays, but he followed Thorin and by the time night had fallen they arrived to the hills.

That night there was no fire, they hid themselves under the lowly protection of trees and stone. They ate in silence with Legolas glancing at Thorin whenever he could, the rain had stopped at some point but the cold was sneaking inside their clothes. While Legolas could resist, the elf saw Thorin shivering from time to time but never giving a sign of feeling cold.

“Here, I believe you need it more than me.” Thorin furrowed his eyebrows at the offering from the elf, Legolas raised his eyebrows and pressed the traveling cloak to Thorin.

“I’m not cold.” Replied Thorin stubbornly, Legolas cracked a half-smile.

“I didn’t come all this way with you as my companion only to have you dying on me because of the cold.” Legolas threw him the cloak shooting him a stern look. “I’ve seen you, Thorin Oakenshield. You are cold; use this as a token of gratefulness for everything you have done for my father so far.”

Thorin took the offering grudgingly feeling warmer, he closed his eyes and for a moment he saw Thranduil again. Those blue eyes looking back at him, asking for help, gleaming with brief joy whenever Thorin would sing to him. Was he doing okay right now? Was Thranduil getting worse or perhaps better?

All these thoughts hunted Thorin as he fell into a restless sleep with Legolas watching him closely.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Fíli saw the trembling hands trying to move the spoon to the mouth. Thranduil was looking tiredly at the spoon in front of him, his movements were slow with a hint of security he wasn’t reflecting on his face. Dinner took almost an hour and the Elven-King could not even finish the food offered to him.

It wasn’t easy for the elf to eat in such an undignified way, his eyes had been focused on the food in front of him but he never got to taste it. Everything felt devoid of life and emotion as he felt his body weakened by the second. His mind in constant alertness of the nightmares following him even in his awake state; the Elven-King dared to lift his eyes and saw the young prince looking at him. Fíli pursed his lips approaching the bed with arms crossed before his chest.

With a gesture of his head, Fíli made sure he was left alone with the Elven-King. He waited until the door had closed behind the last elf to speak freely.

“Uncle has been gone for more than three weeks.” He commented sitting down. “I gather he may be close to the forest and probably ready to bring the cure for you.”

Thranduil stopped whatever he was doing and there was a flash of sorrow in his eyes. The Elven-King lifted his head to face Fíli who was looking at him tore between curiosity and worry.

“The last we knew he and Legolas went down the road to travel through the Mountains of Mirkwood and reached the Anduil.”

“It is hopeless.” Thranduil said turning his face away. “I can feel the cold of mortality clinging to my body. What those vile creatures did to me…You do not understand, young Prince.”

“You’ve seen darkness, you’ve face the great serpents of the North. You’ve lost the unthinkable and you have been forgotten by those you thought dear.”

Thranduil adopted a glazed expression losing his appetite. He tilted his head, lower lip trembling when he spoke again.

“Whatever you mean by that, Prince Fíli?”

“You speak in your sleep. And you mumbled a lot while being unconscious.” Fíli shrugged. “Don’t worry, though. Only Kíli and your Captain were with me when you spoke.”

Thranduil nodded briefly, “How much do you know?”

Fíli smirked but his gestures weren’t malicious or mocking, there was gentleness behind them. Thranduil quirked an eyebrow waiting anxiously for an answer.

“Many things I believe you should discuss with my uncle once he is back.” Fíli said to which Thranduil tensed up evading the dwarf’s eyes. “Others I should thank you for.”

“What do you mean?” Thranduil asked to Fíli who was now looking at him solemnly.

“You save my uncle’s life. You sacrificed yourself so my uncle wouldn’t suffer the same treatment they gave you.” Fili observed as Thranduil moved uncomfortable on the bed at his comment. The dwarf knew he just undisclosed one secret Thranduil was not ready to reveal.

Thranduil remembered briefly the first time he woke up in the cell, how he made sure to always offered himself before they turned to an unconscious Thorin. He remembered how the orc would give him two options: either he faced the worse or they would make Thorin scream until he was begging for dead. Thranduil frowned conscious of Fíli’s stare on him. He had not meant to say anything about it, whatever for? Thorin clearly despised him and wanted nothing to do with him. Even when Thranduil tried subtly to fix the relationship between Mirkwood and Erebor; between both Kings, between them, Thorin only showed disgust and anger. Thranduil had come to accept he would never obtain his heart’s desire, but he was hoping they could at least build a friendship to which hold onto when everything else seemed impossible.

“I don’t think I can express how grateful I am for your gesture. But, I am also confused as to why? Why didn’t you say something? Why kept it a secret?” Fíli said softly making sure Thranduil understood he meant more than the torture in the orc’s dungeons.

Thranduil understood of course resting back on the bed he closed his eyes taking a deep breathe. Exhaling and inhaling, trying to calm his heart and to hold onto the thin line of sanity he still had. His mind brought images of his dreams and his nightmares, of those realities in which he was happy and was heartbroken and in every single one of them Thorin Oakenshield always held his heart.  In those moments in which the Elven-king didn’t know reality from nightmares he would know; Thorin would never feel nothing but resentment towards him. Thranduil was hoping beyond hope. Thranduil opened his eyes to look at Fíli.

“Nothing would have changed if I were to say something.” Thranduil’s voice dripped sadness and defeat. “I am but a foe to him, a debt to be paid. No, do not mistake yourself, Prince Fíli, I know when all of this is over Thorin Oakenshield would remember how much he hates me and I will remember once more what it feels like  to lose hope.”

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The road before him was not the way he pictured it. He imagined there would be trees, under brushes, dirty unmarked roads with trunks on the ground. He even thought he would find the smell of leaves and nature surrounding him. But the valley beyond Mirkwood borders to the west was a rocky one, it was surrounded by hills and uneven terrain, there were trees as huge as a man’s house but the path was a difficult one.

Thorin Oakenshield surrounded another hill only to hear the sound of the stream down the dangerous road. He turned to Legolas who was speaking to his horse, patting his neck calmly. Thorin rolled his eyes stepping carefully on the rocks while following the sound of running water.

They were close, Legolas had told him that much, once they reached the river they should follow it south and they would be at the forest gates. He saw the terrain and realized there was a natural road surrounding the hill moving down towards the thundering sound. Thorin glanced up his heart beating fast, morning was just starting and if they moved now they would get to the river by midmorning. The dwarf closed his eyes breathing softly, last night nightmares had taken residence in his mind. He thought he was back in the orcs prison, he could heard the moans of pain from Thranduil and the blood and dead surrounding the elf. He tried to reach Thranduil but something, someone, always stopped him until little by little Thranduil vanished from his sight.

Thorin jumped startle turning around to see Legolas watching him. The elf narrowed his eyes at him.

“Is everything okay?” Legolas asked, Thorin nodded signaling with his hand the road.

“Yes, I believe this is our path.” Legolas examined the place Thorin had pointed at; he furrowed his eyebrows trying to see beyond the nature.

“It seems that way.” Mumbled Legolas. “It would be difficult but I guess this is the best way to get to the Anduin without getting closer to the limits of Mirkwood and nearing the fortress.”

Thorin nodded grabbing his pony by the reins, “Then, shall we go?”

Legolas nodded directing his own horse with a gesture of his hand. They started their journey again, silently following the path extending before them. Silence seemed to be a constant companion to the both of them, Thorin because he was not ready to face his heart and Legolas because he was confused as to how he should feel about Thorin Oakenshield. He grew up hearing the stories about dwarves, about their ambitions and their lack of attachment to other living creatures. As he grew up, Legolas had come across with one or few dwarves, none of them of noble uprising and ready to turn their backs when their help was needed. But, with the dwarves of Erebor had been the elves turning their backs. The reasons Legolas understood with some difficulty, after all, weren’t dragons even worse than dwarves?

But nothing was ever easy.

Legolas glanced at Thorin who was walking behind him; the horse and the pony were following close behind. When he had met Thorin Oakenshield, Legolas knew the dwarf was trouble. He had not been mistaken, of course and everything was almost lost because of the King’s ambitions and sickness. Then, his father had saved his life and had been trying to approach the King Under the Mountain with subtle moves only to be refused time after time.

The sound of the violently stream reached the elf’s ears making Legolas tilted his head in the direction of the sound. It felt like music to his ears, the water was moving fast carrying the rain of recent days. A couple of hours later he and Thorin were walking on a dangerous path on the hillside, there was a cliff to their right a sure fall to their deaths. Legolas leaned in watching as the grey water flowed under them.

Legolas glanced ahead of him observing as Thorin clenched his fits walking with decision ahead of him.

“My father likes the river.” Legolas observed with curiosity as those broad shoulders tensed up but Thorin never turned when Legolas spoke.

“He loves feeling the cold water on his skin and the sound it makes when is traveling down to meet the lake.” Legolas swallowed his sorrow, his lips lifting in a single smile while his mind was filled with memories of his father.

“He used to sing beautifully during the night, watching the stars reflecting on the water.” Legolas then shook his head remembering the songs. “Did you sing, King Thorin? Did you sing about water and the beauty of the stars?”

It took some time; Thorin was still walking ahead of the elf, his back to him but the tension evident in his gestures.

“I didn’t know any song like that. I just sang to him about what I knew and what Master Baggins taught me.” Thorin looked ahead of him not really noticing the path before him, his mind far away. “He seemed to like Bilbo’s songs the most.”

Legolas hesitated but his curiosity and his willingness to know Thorin Oakenshield, to see if the dwarf was even worthy of his father’s shadow made him decided.

“I believe, King Thorin, my father liked more than those songs.” Legolas commented with questioning tone. “Would you mind singing to me one of these songs?”

Legolas asked loud enough and gently enough to perhaps make Thorin considered his request. Then, after a long silence and when Legolas thought Thorin would not sing, the dwarf started intonating an unfamiliar tune and his deep voice filled the river side.

******

They were resting for a little while, both of them with the present angst of Thranduil waiting for them. They knew time was of importance and they had tried to make it hastily to their destiny. But rest was a necessity for both races and, in those times, Thorin dreaded yet another honest talk with the son of the source of his confusion.

They had been silent for most of the time, Thorin had sung until he felt an impossible weight on his heart and his soul reaching out to the far away Elven-King. Legolas had his eyes close playing with the memories the songs had brought to him.

“If father had known Bilbo Baggins was such a good composer he would have asked for a few songs for himself.” Commented Legolas. “Contrary to popular belief, my father is not as arrogant or miserly, he loves simple things. But, he is a King, there are some things he could not indulge himself in front of the others.”

Thorin watched Legolas talk about his father with a new light. He had always thought the young prince uptight, arrogant, proud and a complete brat. Much like his father. However, Thorin was ever surprised by them. Legolas was still young, even if he had hundreds of years and Thranduil…

“I know my father very well.” Thorin glanced at Legolas and the elf was looking at him with a blank expression. “I didn’t understand it, I was even denying it but now I have no doubt his heart is beating just for you.”

Legolas then stood up giving his back to Thorin who sat there dumbstruck. They said nothing else after that, just continued their journey this time around moving faster towards their destiny.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Haldir of Lórien glanced at his brother funnily.

He heard as Orophin explained to him the situation, what they had seen in the distance and could only proof to be truth when they approached the travelers. The rest of the guards all fidgeted uncomfortably waiting for their leader’s words.

“Are you telling me the son of King Thranduil and a dwarf are at our borders?”

“Yes.” Orophin replied seriously. “We stopped them a long way from the forest entrance, they are awaiting for passage and they do not look please, brother.”

“The dwarf specially is demanding to meet with the lords of Lórien, claiming to be the King Under the Mountain.” Rumil commented.

Haldir frowned wondering what had brought those visitors to their land. Never before, not since the Dark Days had a dwarf neared this forest with the intention of entering. And they certainly hadn’t heard of an elf and a dwarf traveling alongside without some kind of treason or hidden motive. The Marchwarden of Lórien stood up from his spot on the flet.

“Very well, let’s meet with them.”

Haldir peered at the visitors from a distance, as he approached them he concealed any emotion locking his eyes with the elf and then the dwarf. Thorin lifted his chin but Legolas placed a hand on his shoulder, the dwarf growled clenching his fists but did nothing.

This only brought confusion to Haldir who directed his first words to Legolas, “Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion, I am Haldir Marchwarden of Lórien.”

Legolas tilted his head slightly surprised by the way Haldir addressed him; however, the elf bowed back greeting with the right formula.

“You know who I am.” Said Legolas still glancing at Haldir. “Why?”

Haldir allowed the ghost of a smile on his face, “I was there when you were born and when you said your first words. King Thranduil could not be happier.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes at the blond elf, eying him up and down considering those words. Haldir then turned his eyes to the dwarf and those grey eyes that moments before had been warm were now cold.

“Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, you are far from your Kingdom. Whatever brings you to Lothlórien?”

“A business I will only discuss with your King and Queen.” Said Thorin with an imperious voice. “Take me with them.”

Haldir frowned eyes moving sharply from Thorin to Legolas then back to Thorin. “You are far away from your Kingdom; your words have not value in these lands.”

“Please, Haldir of Lórien, we need to see them. We need help.” Said Legolas shutting Thorin with a fiery glare. “Something happened and their help may be the only thing between my father and the coldness of death.”

This time around Thorin didn’t miss the broken mask of the elf when Thranduil was mentioned; Haldir paled slightly looking worriedly at Legolas.

“What do you mean? What has happened to Thranduil?” Thorin felt something snapped inside him, he hated the familiarity _this_ elf seemed to have towards the Elven-King.

“It’s none of your business, _Elf._ Are you taking us to your Lord and Lady? We have not time to discuss these important matters with a mere Marchwarden.”

Legolas opened his eyes glaring at Thorin while those elves who could understand Westron were outrage at those words. Thorin didn’t even move wanting to just barge into the forest and take what he came for. Legolas then turned to Haldir and stopped whatever retorted the elf may have.

“Please, a poison has taken over my father’s vitality. He needs…he needs the mercy of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.” Legolas turned his eyes to Thorin who was just staring down at every single elf. “Thorin, please…”

It was the desperation in Legolas voice; he turned to the young elf and then remembered why he was there. He didn’t come here to fight with the elves or to bring back old quarrels. He came here to safe Thranduil. Haldir was observing this interaction with growing puzzlement and interested, he saw the changed in the dwarf and heard the pleading tone in Legolas voice. Then, he couldn’t stop his dumbstruck expression when both, Legolas and Thorin, bowed their heads.

“Please, we really need the help.” Grumbled Thorin meeting Haldir’s eyes.

“Even so, a Dwarf wandering in the Forest has never happened before.” Said Haldir though his mind was burning with questions and a need to know what had happened to Thranduil. “And so, I could not allow your entrance even if you are a King.”

“Do I look as if I care?” Said Thorin placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I will fight you and every damn elf in here if that means I can save the Elven-King’s life.”

“And , I will help him.” Said Legolas with a seriousness Haldir recognized as an inherited gesture from Thranduil.

Rumil said something to his brother still glaring at the dwarf, whereas another elf whispered in Haldir’s ear. The Marchwarden was facing a serious dilemma; his heart was telling him he should help them whereas his mind and duty was telling him to capture them.

The air around them changed bringing the smell of spring and growing life, Thorin felt a calming drift caressing his hair and beard whispering in his ear. Legolas felt it too and he looked around confused trying to locate the origin of the sudden call. The elves around them tensed and all at once place themselves behind Haldir. Haldir pursed his lips stepping forward.

“I will take you to the Lady and the Lord of the Golden Forest if you accede to be blindfold.”

Thorin opened his mouth to protest but he saw a mental image of Thranduil he had not seen before. The Elven-King was on the bed in Erebor, sweating profusely looking pale whispering to an invisible interlocutor.

“ _He will remember how much he hates me and then...I will remember this moments of delirium in which we were possible.”_

The King Under the Mountain glanced around him then at Haldir, “You better watch if, Elf. Put the damn blindfold and let’s go, we’ve lost valuable time here.”

Legolas bit his lower lip, he watched while Thorin resisted silently when one of the elf’s put the blindfold on. He saw Thorin feeling slightly humiliate by it but also saw the determination. Once Thorin was blind the elf moved behind him to start guiding him.

“Wait!” Legolas knew he would regret this. He was an elf and a kinsman of the forest, Haldir of Lórien himself seemed to know him. But…But Thorin didn’t deserve this treatment and he knew if it wasn’t due to his father’s wounds Thorin would have never acceded to this.

“Wait you haven’t blindfolded me.” Legolas said surprising Haldir and Thorin, Haldir gauged Legolas face looking for answers but found a curious mixture of remorse and determination.

“You are an elf, you can walk freely if you so wish it.” Said Haldir but Legolas shook his head.

“I know; but Thorin is tied to my father’s fate in ways perhaps you do not understand. In which case, he is part of my own fate as well. We both are going to enter the forest blindfold.”

Haldir glanced at Legolas for a long time before nodding and ordering his brother to put on another fold over Legolas eyes. With questions and a burning desire to know what exactly was happening, Haldir lead the travelers inside the forest where Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn were already waiting for them.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

The meeting would forever be engraved in Thorin’s mind. He had to admit this place was beautiful. There was an ethereal and otherworldly appearance to the forest, the smells brought to him memories of home and great valleys of his forefather’s homes. The trees were tall, taller than any other Thorin had seen in the past, silver and golden and green and black every single color seemed to complement a symphony of images bringing the real beauty of an ancient world. Thorin felt his heart shrink at the thought of Thranduil, a small part of him, the one that had always known the Elven-King, knew this was a place Thranduil would love.

They were taken to a huge flet on a tree located in the middle of the city. Most of the time the elves didn’t bother to speak to him but to Legolas and Thorin was okay with it. He didn’t come to talk with any of them his mission was to get the ingredients to safe Thranduil’s life.

Time was moving and he felt Thranduil slipping away by the minute.

Silence fell among them, Thorin saw as Haldir and the rest of the guards all bow facing a group of stairs right in front of him. The dwarf turned curiously with his eyes fixated on the spot where, soon enough, a couple of great beauty appeared. The male elf was taller than any other elf Thorin had seen; he could only compare his height to that of Thranduil or Círdan from Linden. Long silver hair falling on his back, tidy and held together by a circlet around his forehead. His clothes were of delicate manufacture, white and bright fitting the strong body under them.

The female, however, was a sight to behold. Beautiful like rare gem, fair and regal the woman allowed her companion to advance ahead of her while she stood behind piercing the visitors with her clear eyes. Her hair was gold, delicate features betrayed only by the harshness of her eyes and her posture. The woman was a dangerous beauty and Thorin sensed she could unleash a living hell of she so wanted to.

Thranduil was beautiful, Thorin had been enchanted by the very first moment he met him. But this woman…she was of another lineage. Older, wiser, dangerous.

The elf neared them standing right in front of them, his grey eyes went from Legolas to Thorin. He took his time watching them as if looking for something; Thorin felt impatience on his heart, already wanting to say something when a soft alluring voice stopped him. He frowned turning his head left and right, trying to locate the source of such a voice. It spoke to him truths and memories, asking him to calm and wait. He opened his mouth when his eyes found those of the woman. Then he understood. It was her.

“Never before has a dwarf entered these lands and certainly not one with a noble birth and a Kingdom far to the North.” The male elf spoke clearly focusing his eyes on Thorin. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head.

“Welcome, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King Under the Mountain. Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of the Woodland Realm.” Thorin eyed the she-elf and the male elf tilting his head.

“You know my name, but I don’t recall yours.” Haldir and Legolas tensed up, the elf merely smirked.

“I am Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien and she is my wife.” Said Celeborn turning around and stretching his hand to help the female coming down the stairs. “Galadriel, Lady of Lothlórien.”

Celeborn made a gesture with his hand and a door to their left side was opened, he inclined his head and invited Legolas and Thorin to follow them. Thorin could not take his eyes from the woman, the presence of her still bothering his mind. The dwarf looked around at the magnificent crafted room and chairs they were invited to take. Thorin was getting desperate and tired of so much pleasantries, he opened his mouth to speak but the voice of the woman stopped him. This time around though, she spoke out loud.

“You have come a long way searching for help.” Galadriel turned to Legolas and then to Thorin. “What exactly has happened to King Thranduil for I can’t sense him the way a use to.”

Celeborn turned to his wife and then to Legolas, “Is he okay?”

Legolas hesitated if there was something he knew about his father was the bitterness surrounding his past before Mirkwood and the Lord of Lórien. He was older, of course when he posed those questions and his father had told him what he was willing to. Legolas had comprehend enough to know what he was about to do was against anything his father would have done. He eyed Thorin but the dwarf was unusually quiet his hands closing tightly around the armchairs with his eyes fixated on the Lady.

Celeborn was patient he saw out of the corner of his eyes as Galadriel fixed her attention on the dwarf. Clearly there was a story her wife knew about but hadn’t shared with him. Celeborn looked at Legolas and couldn’t help but see the similarities between father and son. He was tempted to smile for he could see a young Thranduil in every gesture Legolas made. If things had gone differently…

Haldir stood at the door observing, he was grateful with Galadriel and Celeborn for allowing him to stay. His heart beat with worry for his friend, whatever had happened?

“He is not.” Legolas finally said measuring his words. “Something happened almost two months ago and now I’m afraid my father may be lost.”

“Please, Legolas, tell me for I and everyone present in this room wishes to know what has befallen our friend.”

Legolas frowned never hearing his father used that term to refer to the habitants of Lórien. Nevertheless Legolas started narrating what had happened, of the ambushed and the captured Kings. He also told the presents of the torture and the valiant efforts of the King Under the Mountain to put the both of them out of harm’s way.  With every word and moment Celeborn and Haldir darkened whereas Thorin seemed impatient about ready to explode.

“I don’t understand.” Intervened Haldir after asking silently for permission. “Athelas should have worked! The healers must have done something wrong.”

“Well, it was an elf who try it, I wouldn’t put it pass your kin to make such a mistake.” Replied Thorin glaring at Haldir then at Celeborn and Galadriel. “I believe we have lost valuable time. We’ve come here to obtain a flower of one of those trees of yours and a fresh stash of these Athelas. Are you going to give them to us? The cost is of no importance.”

Celeborn furrowed his brows but the hand of Galadriel on his wrist stopped whatever reply he may have. Galadriel leaned forward lifting a single, elegant eyebrow piercing Thorin with her blue eyes. She smiled but Thorin thought the smile was cold and devoid of kindness.

“Why should we give you a flower from our beloved trees? A great work took place to make them grew away from the influence of evil.” Galadriel tilted her head noticing the tension on Legolas and Thorin’s stance. “It was a great tragedy. I do not deny this. But, it is beyond our borders and a problem that does not affect us directly.”

“He is your kin!” Thorin stood up punching the table and glaring at Galadriel. The female elf didn’t even move, her expression never changed. Legolas was trembling in contained anger, his fist tightly closed while Celeborn sat back watching them.

Haldir was torn between trying to intervene and see where his Lady wanted to get with this game.

“You may be right in certain aspects but not in all of them.” Said Galadriel never breaking eye contact with Thorin. “But, we do not own King Thranduil this favor or any other. You have not given me enough reasons to give you a Mallorn tree’s flower.”

“My father may die…At this very moment he may be…” Legolas had a fire in his eyes and a burning desire to break something. He watched these high elves denying help to safe the person he loved the most in the whole of Middle Earth.

“I wasn’t wrong, was I?” Said Thorin with his voice dripping anger and disbelief. “You are treacherous and vile, you enjoy watching the suffering of others races because they are not as ethereal or as tall or just about as self-righteous as yourselves.”

Thorin was trembling with rage and desperation; he looked into the blue eyes of Galadriel and could not hide what he was feeling. If these elves didn’t help Thranduil may…he may be….NO!

“If we are so despicable…why try to safe Thranduil then?” Asked Galadriel in the same calm tone her thoughts reflecting on those of Thorin who was suddenly left speechless. “An Elf who didn’t even move a finger to help with the dragon, someone who kept you captive during your quest. Someone you have claimed to hate and despise…why were you so desperate to save him in the orcs prison? Why are you so desperate to save him now?”

Legolas tilted his head glancing at Thorin begging silently for the dwarf to say something, to fix the insults. But Thorin stood there with images of Thranduil, of his treason, of the way he turned around when Smaug attacked, when they fell into the forest during the quest. And then he remembered Thranduil, his smile, his clear blue eyes, his voice, the kindness of his hands when he tended to his and his nephews wounds. Thorin remembered how fragile he had been in the dungeons, how he had spoken of little moments of happiness, how he had enjoyed simple songs. And the King remembered how he had misjudged the Elven-King and how he had denied what his heart has always known.

“Tell me, Thorin Oakenshield, why should we help you safe someone you despise, you hate so much?”

Thorin lowered his eyes, furrowing his brows thinking. He could hear the voice of the woman on his mind; he could hear the insistent question bugging him for an answer. Why? Why? Why?

Celeborn remained impassive to his wife’s side, but his mind was trying to see beyond the evident. What was Galadriel seeing that he hadn’t considered? Because, Galadriel was right why was Thorin Oakenshield, a dwarf, worried about Thranduil, an elf? It was a curious matter and his wife was treating this with all her wicked traits. If something caught Galadriel’s attention it was never good to ignore it.

Thorin hesitated again; he looked darkly at the table with his mind filled with thoughts and confusion.  He spoke, but when he did there was no conviction on his voice and his eyes were bleak telling another story.

“I…He is my ally. I owe him my life.” Thorin heard the words leaving his mouth and he knew the moment Galadriel went cold and hardened her expression that he had said the wrong thing.

“Then, there is nothing I can do.” Galadriel stood up and looked in the direction of Haldir. “Make sure they had a warm bed and warm food and early in the morning escort them back to the forest edge.”

“No! Please, Lady Galadriel, my father needs the help.” Legolas stood up pleadingly looking from Celeborn to Galadriel then back to Celeborn. “I…I don’t know what happen in the past but I thought you were close to my father…I…”

Thorin was cold he lifted his head and saw Galadriel watching him again, but her stance hadn’t changed at all. Cold and regal she was still asking silently for the right answer.

_You know the right answer._

_Why?_

_Why are you ready to give yourself away in this quest to save your enemy?_

_Why Thranduil?_

“No, you have to…he needs the help….” Mumbled Thorin, Galadriel tilted her head lifting her chin.

“Why?”

“Are you so cruel of a Lady that you will devoid a child of his father?” Galadriel narrowed her eyes at Thorin’s words.

“Why?” She asked again with a tone of ultimatum in her voice. “Give me a reason as to why should I help you? Why should I give you one of the flowers and athelas? Why should I tell you how to safe Thranduil’s life? Why?”

Thorin knew it wasn’t easy, a hidden part of his heart knew it. He knew it without a doubt but to actually say it out loud. To acknowledge it in front of so many would give his heart’s desire a whole different place in his life. Accepting what the Lady was asking was accepting there may be a chance that perhaps Thranduil was not as delirious as he thought when he shared his affections to him.

“Because if he were to die I may die along with him.” Thorin finally said looking at Galadriel with tears forming in his eyes. “If I…if I lose him there is no reason for me to be on this earth. Thranduil is responsible for my heart’s beat, he is the reason I look forward to the next morning. I…”

Thorin trailed off shaking his head dropping his shoulders in a sign of resignation, “I love him more than I care to admit, more than I care to say and much more that I care for me.”

Haldir and Celeborn turned to Thorin then to a smiling Galadriel, both of them were astonished at the sudden revelation. Legolas had his eyes on Thorin, he had known of course, suspect of Thorin’s affections but may as he tried Thorin had never said nothing. Not until know. Legolas didn’t know how to feel about it, he looked over at Thorin and try to imagine what his father would say before this revelation. The Prince realized soon his father would feel please.

Galadriel allowed a softening of her smile, her eyes gleamed joyfully and tenderly at the dwarf. She moved swiftly approaching the King and extending her right hand to him. Thorin hesitated eying her with suspicion, his heart beating fast before his own revelation, his own feelings.

“Now, I can help you.” Galadriel said leaning forward.

“Why did you…?” Thorin asked but trailed off upset.

“Because, to save Thranduil’s life it is necessary the selfishness only love can offer.” Commented Galadriel. “If you truly love Thranduil as I know you love him then his life may be saved. Now, let us move fast for he has little time on this earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the reviews and kudos and bookmarks. You guys make my day and really make me happy. Well, this chapter turned out to be longer than I thought so, instead of three chapter is going to be a four chaptered story. Hope you like it and again sorry for the grammar or spelling mistakes. Help and requests are very welcome


	4. Promise me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which eternity and promises only work if you want them to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here it is. The Final Chapter. This one was hard to work with because I want to include so many things but I just have to decided what to show. I really hope you enjoy it and like it. Again turn out to be longer than I intended but it does happen from time to time. Sorry for any grammar or spelling mistake and....enjoy!

**Promise me**

**Eternise-moi**

 

Thorin watched as Legolas spoke with Celeborn, the young elf was frowning showing with his body language just how uncomfortable he was. The dwarf wondered, not for the first time, what had happened between Celeborn and Thranduil. He eyed the interaction with curiosity when someone stood behind him; he looked out of the corner of his eyes to see Lady Galadriel standing right beside him.

“We live long lives and this usually brings sorrow, grudges and misunderstandings not easily solve by time.” Thorin grumbled annoyed and anxious at the woman’s ability to read minds.

Galadriel turned to him smiling softly, she leaned in grabbing the dwarf’s hands placing a bunch of freshly cut Athelas there. Thorin glanced at the herbs then at Galadriel with confusion.

“There is more to elven medicine that you may know, King Thorin.” Said Galadriel making sure the dwarf could not look away. “Even the most skill healer can only cure the physical body without being capable of curing the mental state and the soul of the wounded.”

“I don’t think I understand. Why are you giving me these?” Asked Thorin caressing the herbs while smelling the sweet aroma coming from them.

There was a glint of sadness in the Lady of Lórien, a memory crossing her mind when she spoke her next words.

“The heart of the elves is a delicate thing.” Galadriel tilted her head stretching her hand to capture a falling leaf. “Whatever the orcs did to Thranduil, his wounds ran deeper than the mere physical aspect of them.”

“You mean, like the mind? That’s why he keeps mixing the reality with his dreams?” Asked Thorin perplexed, Galadriel smiled at him nodding.

“I knew someone, a long time ago, that was hurt while on a dangerous quest. An elven maid went to his rescue, but he had mortal wounds…” Galadriel trailed off and for a moment Thorin watched how she transformed in front of him. Thorin then understood just how old the she-elf really was.

“The elf maid was brought some athelas and with her love, with her dedication she saved the man’s life.” Galadriel turned her piercing eyes to Thorin. “She loved the man more than words in any language can describe, or else her arts would have not worked at all. Do you love Thranduil enough to safe him from a certain dead?”

Thorin fidgeted uncomfortable, out of the corner of his eyes he saw Legolas speaking with the other elf, Celeborn. His eyes then fell upon Haldir who, apparently, was interested in accompanying them to see his _beloved friend._ Thorin had said no, he didn’t want the pointy-ear elf coming to see Thranduil. The dwarf didn’t like him at all. But Legolas had agreed even after Thorin had made it clear they needed to move fast.

Jealousy, Legolas had called his actions. Idiotic, Thorin had called Legolas.

In the end, Haldir would go with them as a herald and a messenger from the Golden Forest. And Thorin would make sure the elf didn’t even get a chance to meet alone with Thranduil. He wasn’t jealous, just protective.

And it was all about that, right? To protect Thranduil, to see him smile again. Thorin would give everything for Thranduil to be okay even if the Elven-King went back to being a complete bastard, cold and cocky.

“What do I have to do?” Asked Thorin, Galadriel followed the concentrate stare of Thorin and smiled wickedly. Oh, if Mithrandir only knew…

“While it is true the arts of the Elves in healing are more powerful than those of dwarves.” Commented Galadriel. “Everything is meaningless if there is not intent behind the actions.”

“Intent?” Asked Thorin his calloused fingertips caressing the soft petals of the white flower of the herbs.

“Love can be such a powerful medicine. Use it to clean his wounds, use it to call his name, use your love, your heart, to sing to Thranduil and perhaps not everything may be lost.”

Thorin scrunched his nose trying to grasp the logic behind the she-elf’s words. He was ready to do anything for Thranduil, but this talk was getting a little foolish to him. _Love_ as a feeling, was never this… _alive_ emotion, for Thorin it was something that happened to few and was pretended by others.

Was he pretending?

Thorin realized he felt physical pain on his chest at the mere thought of losing Thranduil. Thorin then nodded and Galadriel smiled pleased.

“Follow your heart and your instincts and you will know what to do.” Galadriel said to Thorin.

“Do you believe we will make it on time?” The question from Thorin caught Galadriel by surprise; she actually raised her eyebrows glancing at Thorin before looking up at the sky.

“What does your heart tell you?” Asked Galadriel and Thorin frowned concentrated.

The dwarf nodded bowing before the she-elf, “I still don’t trust you completely. You are a very complex lady. But I thank you for this. I will make sure Thranduil stays with us and then, perhaps, as a gift to him and with your permission, I would like to bring him here.”

Galadriel opened her eyes delighted, she chuckled shaking her head, “If you convince him to come here leaving grudges of the past behind the both of you are very welcome to come for as long as you want.”

Thorin bowed again and made his way to Legolas hiding away the Athelas Galadriel had given to him. The dwarf glared at Haldir who seemed to return the glare with the same intensity. Celeborn wished them a good journey and gave Legolas a parchment; Thorin eyed the thing before giving his back to the elves.

 

His heart told him he had little time to make sure Thranduil would live and not be lost to his own mind.

 

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

The journey back home was done hastily without stopping until night fell upon them. Thorin would ignore Legolas and Haldir most of the time, both elves speaking in elvish from time to time. They moved faster but Thorin did have to accept if it weren’t for him and the pony things could move even faster.

The night was cold and the fire provided little warm to the dwarf who was rolling his eyes from time to time listening to Legolas asking stupid questions. But, stupid or not, Thorin would pay attention to every bit of information concerning Thranduil. The dwarf sat silently in front of the fire while hearing the _incredible, amazing and honorable_ quests and adventures Haldir and Thranduil used to accomplish when younger. In turn, Legolas would tell Haldir what an incredible King he was, how he was managing everything in the Woodland Realm.

The night progressed and Legolas went to sleep for a little while, Haldir remained awake with Thorin as his only companion. The elf eyed the dwarf for a long time wondering about his exact relationship with Thranduil and with the whole quest. The Marchwarden fidgeted a little, placing his hands on his knees while glancing at the fire.

“I’ve heard what happened; I still find it incredible to believe those orcs could get a hold of Thranduil.” Haldir gauged Thorin’s reaction while he continued speaking. “Orcs are vicious creatures but…what they did to Thranduil, and you of course, was not a normal happening.”

“When I know how the minds of orcs work I will gladly tell you what reasons they have behind our torture.” Replied Thorin annoyed.

Haldir frowned glaring at Thorin, “It is a valid question, though. But, there is something else I’ve been wondering for a while.”

“I’m not interested.” Thorin replied trying to focus his attention in something else, Haldir however wouldn’t let him for he raised his voice to make sure Thorin hear him clearly.

“How you seemed okay whereas Thranduil is dying? If you claimed to love him why didn’t you offer yourself so my friend could be okay?” Haldir broke into a half smile, sarcasm dripping his voice. “Of course, loving him it was only right you would sacrifice yourself for him…And yet…”

Thorin sent a furious glare to Haldir standing up approaching the fire. The night was silent but by the sound coming from the pyre, the yellow and red flames reflect on the skin of elf and dwarf. Wind moved swiftly around them, caressing with biting coldness their uncovered skin. Haldir held Thorin’s eyes still demanding for answers; he had not been happy at the dwarf’s declaration his heart still mistrusting Thorin’s intentions.

“I’m going to leave something pretty clear because I won’t let you or any other like yourself doubt me.” Thorin said with a firm voice.

“I fought inside the orcs lair, always looking for the worse treatment so Thranduil could take a rest. But, it never worked; they held a special hatred for Thranduil.” Thorin spoke clearly with his eyes concealing the sudden angst he felt as those memories invade his mind. “What I felt for Thranduil is none of your business at all and you don’t even know what I tried to do to keep him safe.”

 

Thorin then turned around leaving Haldir sitting in front of the fire. The Marchwarden thought about what had happened, his mind drifted for a moment to his friend and what Legolas had told him about the recent years. Was it possible Thranduil love the dwarf back? The same Thranduil who would look the race of Durin with the memories of Doriath still fresh in his mind? And, what was so good about Thorin Oakenshield anyway? So far, Haldir had seen an arrogant, proud and easy to anger dwarf; nothing new there. Haldir decided to not think about it, soon enough he would be reunited with Thranduil and everything would be okay.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Kíli ran down the stairs turning left and right on the corridors, he wore a huge smile on his face apologizing with the different dwarves he ran into while trying to reach his brother. Fíli was yawning sitting on his uncle’s chair hearing Dwalin and Balin go on and on about something with the forges, a problem Fíli had been hearing about for the last three hours.

The doors opened with a bang and Kíli entered breathing fast, grabbing his side to try and recovered his breath. Fíli frowned standing up with Balin and Dwalin following close behind.

“Kíli, what happen? Are you okay?” Fíli approached his brother placing his hands on Kíli’s shoulders.

Kíli nodded, “Y-yes…Uncle…Uncle is back.”

When Fíli and Kíli arrived to the main entrance they ran towards Thorin who was already trying to move past some of the dwarves that were giving him a nice welcome. The gates of Erebor were not open since the storm was back with a vengeance and the city must be guarded from the weather. Fíli watched his uncle’s drench clothes and the disheveled appearance he and the elves behind him had.

“Uncle!” Thorin turned to Fíli who called to him above the multitude. “You made it.”

“Barely.” Grumbled Thorin, the King was about to say something when Oín came to him running like a mad-dwarf.

Thorin felt a cold dagger pierced his heart at the sight of utter pain on the healers face. The King shook his head moving past his nephews to Oín who reached him on time breathing hard.

“Oín…”

“Your Majesty is just barely on time.” Said Oín glancing at Thorin then at an approaching Legolas. “Go now, for I am unsure if King Thranduil would be able to survive the night.”

The room felt cold; there was only Tauriel and the healer from the elves. Thranduil seemed to be in a deep, restless sleep his hands grabbing the blankets tightly. There was a thin layer of cold sweat on his face, the eyes moving under the eyelids with an erratic breathing.

Thorin stepped into the room his eyes never leaving the sight of the Elven-King. The elf’s lips part to take a deep breath, Thorin heard the whispered words coming from those lips. His name, his son’s name, everything and nothing, Thorin watched with a broken heart as Thranduil tried to reach for reality.

“We must do something, my Lord. King Thranduil is just getting worse and worse to the point he now prefers the shadows world.” Thorin turned to the healer who was looking anxiously at him.

“We brought the things you asked for, Lannian.” Legolas took his rucksack off opening it. He put the Mallorn flower from inside placing it carefully on the closest table.

“My Lord, this may be what we need…” Said Lannian approaching the table and ordering for warm water and clean cloths. “Did you bring the Athelas as well?”

Thorin jerked his head up and put the herbs from his own bag, he gave them to the healer eying the elf carefully. For a moment, there was doubt in Thorin’s heart. What if he did what his heart was telling him to do and they refused? The dwarf shook his head; he would fight them of course. He would save Thranduil even if he had to fight all of Erebor to do so.

“Prepare everything and then, tell me what I should do.” Said Thorin taking his wet coat off looking for a pot with water in which he could wash his face and hands.

He knew everyone in the room was looking at him intently; Lannian glanced at Thorin then at Legolas and finally at Haldir who, both elves were upset if for different reasons. Finally, Legolas turned to Lannian nodding briefly.

“What could you possible do, King Thorin?” Said Haldir glancing at the dwarf who was getting ready. Thorin tensed up lifting his clear eyes to glare at the elf.

“I will probably be of more help than you, Haldir of Lórien.” Thorin replied turning to Oín and Lannian and cutting whatever replied Haldir may have. “Now, move! You say so yourself. We have no time to waste.”

There was a moment of doubt before Oín and Lannian set out to work. They placed the flower and a single branch of the Athelas on a bowl with hot water; everyone seemed to be moving in sync with the attentive eyes of Legolas, Haldir, Tauriel and Thorin on them. Soon enough the room was imbued with the sweet aroma of Athelas and the Mallorn flower. The travelers felt the tension from their ride and the road left their bodies as they inhaled the fragrance. Lannian took the covers off of Thranduil ripping a groan of pain from Thranduil.  The healer left Thranduil naked from his waist up, Haldir moved closer and he soon was filled with outrage at the writing on his friend’s chest.

“Those monsters…” Haldir turned to Legolas who merely shook his head and watched as Oín used the mortar to squash some of the petals of the flower along with the Athelas and some other herbs and ointment they had.

Lannian started chanting softly placing his hand on the King’s forehead, the healer turned to lock his eyes with Thorin who was undecided as if he should move or not.

“King Thranduil is calling for you, my Lord.” Said Lannian inclining his head to Thorin. “Please, come closer.”

The room went totally silent and the presents could hear the faint whispering from Thranduil. Thorin approached the bed and heard that voice uttering his name in desperation.

It was a strange moment, Thorin could admire the elf on the bed and his heart beat with the need to protect, to hold him against his chest and make the pain go away. For Thorin this was a new feeling, he knew lust, he knew desire…but _love_ was different. _Love_ moved beyond those feelings and created something inside of him that, at times, made him feel foolish.

Thorin then remembered what Galadriel had said he leaned closer caressing the soft, cold cheek of Thranduil while his voice set the tune of a familiar song.

“ _Roads go ever ever on,Over rock and under tree,By caves where never sun has shone,By streams that never find the sea.”_ To say he felt ridiculous singing in front of so many would be a correct assumption. Thorin was aware of all the stares he was getting but he decided to ignore them.

Lannian and Oín then come closer placing a small bowl near Thorin, the dwarf frowned still singing softly the sound seemed to calm the Elven-King. Oín nodded to Thorin then at the bowl and finally pointed at the burning on Thranduil’s chest.

“The poison is there, this is why we have been incapable of curing him correctly.” Comment Lannian. “If you may, Lord Thorin, help us clean his wounds with the medicine you brought from the Golden Forest.”

Thorin nodded briefly and proceeded to do it.

It felt strange on his hand, soft and yet sticky, he grabbed a good amount with his fingers and, with a trembling hand, and he rubbed it on the closest wound. Thranduil hissed opening his eyes and moving violently.  Lannian called for help while Thranduil tried to push the healing hand away from him, his broken wrist collided against Thorin who opened his eyes at the sight.

“Thorin, go on.” Legolas called to him with pleading eyes.

Thorin sighed and then went once again to apply the medicine. He felt another impulse deep inside his heart and, once again, started singing softly. His voice rose above the violent response from Thranduil, he tried to reach out for the elf with the same songs the Elven-King had asked for at one time. Thorin poured his soul while singing never taking his eyes away from Thranduil’s face.

The wound was hot under his fingertips; he could feel the burning skin and the blood mixing with the ointment. The sweet fragrance of the ointment filled his nostrils as he caressed softly each and every word conscious of what it said. He lifted his eyes to see the fair face of Thranduil scrunched up in pain.

_Intent_

_Call his name_

_Touch his heart_

Thorin fidgeted looking around him out of the corner of his eyes; he pursed his lips leaning in. He was closed to Thranduil’s left side; clearing his voice he opened his mouth.

“Thranduil.” Thorin called softly, almost shyly. There was no reaction, and Thorin kept on moving his fingers above the poisonous wound on the Elven-King’s chest.

“Thranduil.” He called again, firmly this time his heart beating fast when he saw the tension in the closed eyes. “Thranduil…I know you can hear me.”

Thranduil parted his lips gasping for air. Thorin frowned grimly seeking answers desperately. He had stopped paying attention to the others a long time ago, merely moving his fingers, grabbing more of the ointment on his fingers and cleaning those wounds.

“Thranduil…Just hear me, Damn it!” Thorin said with a hint of desperation in his voice. “Say something you insufferable, Elven-King!”

Silence.

Thranduil stirred moving his head to the origin of the voice. Thorin felt his heart skip several beats when those eyes fluttered open and he found himself staring into deep, blue eyes. It took a long while, Thorin sighed in relief and he couldn’t help the half smile forming on his face. Thranduil seemed rather confused, blinking slowly while observing the face of Thorin.

“Am I…dead yet?” Thranduil asked weakly, Thorin scoffed shaking his head.

“No, you’re not, you fool! Do you really think I was going to let you die after…after the orcs?” Replied Thorin, Thranduil closed his eyes and turned away from Thorin.

The dwarf seemed slightly confused and hurt by the gesture, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. His finger trembled slightly when he saw Thranduil looking around the room, his blue eyes focusing on Legolas and then on Haldir.

“Haldir?” Thranduil asked confused, Haldir smiled approaching the bed.

“You gave us quite a scare, my friend.”

“What are you doing here?” Thranduil kept staring at the Marchwarden turning his head slightly so he was now staring at the ceiling.

“I’m here to make sure you survive.” Replied Haldir.

Thranduil then glanced to his left side and he saw Thorin furrowing his brows. The dwarf was caressing his chest softly and Thranduil felt relief on his chest, the burning disappearing softly while a different warm took over his heart. Thorin turned and his eyes found those of Thranduil again, for a moment they did or said nothing. That was until Thorin realized he was still rubbing the ointment on the wounds, he tried to put his hand away but Thranduil grabbed him.

“Please…” It was a mere whisper, but there was pleadingly tone in Thranduil that Thorin could not deny. “You…were singing…in my dreams…”

Thorin tensed but set back to work on the injuries, he followed the patterns of the writing while trying to grasp for a moment of sanity. Without realizing it, Thorin leaned closer until he could feel the warm coming from Thranduil. The elf took in the face of the dwarf, his lips forming a faint smile.

“It was no dream.” He finally said to which Thranduil closed his eyes faintly.

“It felt like one.” Thranduil replied back, Thorin smiled back knowing if he were to move just an inch they would kiss each other. Thranduil seemed to think the same thing for he let his head fall closer to Thorin, pleadingly eyes and soft request for another song.

Haldir watched the interaction with growing confusion and a spark of realization in his mind. He observed the tenderness and affection behind Thorin’s movements, the dwarf for all his gruff and bravado was trying to be as gentle as he could. Thranduil for his part seemed to give in, to accept whatever was happening as a sign of hope. He never imagined he would see the day dwarf and elf could end up like this. Haldir took a step back annoyed with himself, with the situation and with the regret still feeding his heart.

“Legolas, I think you should go change and eat something.” Tauriel grabbed her friend’s forearm, Legolas turned to Tauriel lost.

“Do you think he is going to be okay?” Legolas asked returning his attention to his father and Thorin, Tauriel bit her lower lip.

“I don’t know, my friend. But, I do know this,” She started smiling gently at Legolas. “King Thorin is trying very hard to reach him; perhaps we should give him time.”

“I don’t want to leave him.” Legolas frowned stubbornly.

“I know, but this is going to take a while and you do need at least a bath and food.”

Legolas hesitated turning to see Thorin speaking softly, the King Under the Mountain spoke of simple things. He told Thranduil about the Anduin, the forest, about the things he had seen while traveling to Lórien. Then, Thorin mentioned the forest and how he was not that impressed. In that moment, Legolas saw it. The soft, tender smile on his father’s face. The Elven-King opened his eyes and those blue orbs sparkled with silent laughter when Thorin told him how Galadriel and Celeborn were nothing of the other world.

The Prince knew there was still a long way to his father’s healing but at least now he was sure he would survive the night. Legolas turned to Tauriel who was watching the scene with a sweet smile.

“You are right, I think I need to eat and I smell.”

“Awfully, by the way.” Commented Tauriel teasingly.

Legolas grabbed Haldir by his arm; the Marchwarden glanced at Thranduil then at Legolas.

“I think we should clean up and eat something.” Legolas saw Haldir ready to protest but he pulled on the older elf’s arm. “Please, I think now we just have to wait.”

 

Haldir hesitated watching Thranduil then at Thorin before nodding in agreement.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thorin concentrated his efforts still unsure if what he was doing was correct. He didn’t understand clearly what it meant to pour one’s heart into something. He was always passionate about crafting and working with his hands, but this was different. Thorin knew his heart was beating a tad bit harder, he knew he was feeling warm and at ease. Thorin looked at Thranduil and spoke to the Elven-King, he kept talking nonsense and, while at first he thought it was stupid, Thranduil seemed rather content by it.

The Elven-King lied on the bed wandering in sleep and wakeful state, sometimes replying back some others content with just listening. In all this time, Lannian and Oín worked to cure the different injuries in the Elven-King’s body. The healer of the elves made sure Thranduil would drink something he prepared with some Mallorn flower’s petals and Athelas.  A sweet beverage that warmed Thranduil whereas Thorin seemed to be following the same path over and over on his chest.

The dwarf’s fingers moved nimbly over the carved skin never noticing how his own feelings towards the evil marking changed. The burnt skin was looking differently now, it was barely noticeable for some but to the eyes of the healers it was a relief. The burn was not as red or as alive as it had been hours ago.

“After all of this is over, we have to make sure to celebrate.” Commented Thorin after a moment of prolong silence. “I’ve heard thanks to Master Baggins that you can make admirable parties.”

Thranduil turned his head to stare at Thorin, his lips curling up. “My parties are…legendary.”

Thorin laughed shaking his head, the movement of his hand changing under the charm of those blue eyes. He leaned closer having forgotten a long time ago Thranduil and he were not alone.

“I long for the day we can celebrate in my Halls your full recovery.” Thorin went to say something else, he meant to say something else but his own doubts stopped him.

Instead he smiled weakly at the Elven-King seeking for the right words. Thranduil gave Thorin a sad smile, the Elven-King grabbed Thorin’s hand between his and moved it along his chest until he placed it on top of his chest where his heart was located.

Thorin was left speechless for a moment, his hand felt the warm skin of the Elven-King, and it could feel the beating of the heart.

“And I long for the day when you stop being a dream and become my reality.” Thranduil gasped when his mouth was suddenly invaded by that of Thorin.

The Elven-King gave in feeling the sweetness of those lips and beard caressing his face. His mind brought the memories of his incarceration, of those lips possessing him passionately. This time around their shared kiss was different. Softer, warmer…like a promise.

“You idiotic, elf.” Thranduil closed his eyes hearing the voice of Thorin on his ear, the dwarf brushed his lips on the pointy ear and the elf held back an exclamation of approval. “I’m more real than you can imagine. Your heart is not the only one beating hard for a dream. Mine seems to only feel warm and complete when is closer to yours.”

Thranduil closed his eyes falling into a deep sleep with Thorin still closer to him. The dwarf watched Thranduil for a long while before he moved away slowly. His neck was stiff and every muscle of his body was vibrating in discomfort. Thorin felt his eyes heavy with sleep and his stomach grumbling with hunger.

But the King Under the Mountain made sure Thranduil was sleeping confortable, he applied the ointment one last time with his mind wrapping around the memories of the kiss. He saw as Lannian fidgeted hesitantly helping Thranduil under his blankets to keep him warm.

“What do you say healer? How is he?” Asked Thorin for the first time facing Oín and Lannian.

“He…seems better.” Oín said eying Thorin slightly uncomfortable. “But, we shall see what happens now.”

“King Thranduil is strong; he has resisted the poison this long.” Lannian placed his hand on Thranduil’s forehead sighing in relief. “It will take some time but he is not cold any longer and, I believe, your actions have helped to cleanse the poison from his blood.”

“Then, is he going to be okay?” Asked Thorin grabbing Thranduil by his hand.

“Eventually, he needs rest and for us to keep doing the healing.” Lannian then smiled gently at Thorin. “You have reached to his soul and my King seemed to have answer favorably to your call.”

“I certainly hope so.” Thorin lowered his head.

“He is going to be okay, Thorin.” Replied Oín. “Now, it is you the one who needs rest.”

“I believe King Thorin, Healer Oín is right. You need some rest and food.” Thorin turned to Lannian who was frowning at him. “Your nephews may be waiting for you, and Healer Oín already sent word for them to have something warm ready for you.”

“I don’t want to leave Thranduil’s side.” Thorin glanced at Thranduil then at both healers. Oín and Lannian glanced at each other then at the King.

“If something happens, I will search for you, Thorin.” Said Oín smiling tiredly at his King. “But, you need to rest, it’s almost midnight now. You’ve been here for six hours.”

Thorin seemed rather shock at the revelation; he never thought it was this late. He thought about it for a minute before nodding in defeat.

“Very well, I’ll be going but…if something happens I want to be informed immediately.”

 

“You will be, don’t worry.” Said Lannian smiling kindly at him.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

Thranduil woke up to a dark, silent room.

At first he panicked, sitting up to look around the room screaming in pain when he used his still, healing hand.  He put his left hand on his chest breathing harshly to calm the pain while his eyes swept the room desperately. Little by little, his mind focused enough to remember where he was and what happened to him. The pain receded slowly but he still felt upset about the darkness and the loneliness.

The Elven-King calmed his breathing laying back on the bed, he still felt tired but at least now he was more lucid. He was tensed trying to collect his thoughts when the sound of the door opening made him turned slightly.

Thorin entered the room with a torch on his hand; he was serious carrying something else on his left hand while maneuvering the door with his foot. The dwarf lifted his eyes to see Thranduil staring at him.

“You’re awake.” Thorin seemed to smile moving to place a small bag on a table before lighting the room with the torch.

Almost immediately, the whole room was lit by clear silver light. Thorin moved closer to the bed where Thranduil was watching him closely.

“How long was I asleep?” Asked Thranduil tentatively, Thorin grabbed the bag putting fresh bread and a blue bottle from it.

“Two days.” Replied Thorin. “We…I was worried. I came here as soon as I could and made sure to apply the medicine but you were just deeply asleep. I even sang to you trying to reach you in your dreams.”

There was something else Thorin wasn’t saying, but Thranduil didn’t press when he felt just how hungry he was. Thorin moved closer and Thranduil lost the ability to think when the dwarf helped him up.

Was he dreaming again?

Was this just another sick game another cruel illusion?

Thranduil allowed those strong arms to help him sit up; he relied on the comfort his heart and soul felt at the dwarf’s closeness. Real or not, Thranduil took it with a light heart and a soft smile.

“How are you feeling?” Asked Thorin cupping Thranduil’s face, for the dwarf it was important to make sure this was real. That Thranduil was awake and not lost as he had thought.

Two days. After the time Thorin spent with Thranduil to see him sleep for two days made Thorin desperate and think he had done something wrong. That perhaps he had not been enough to cure Thranduil.

“I feel in a dream.” Thranduil answered softly looking at Thorin, the dwarf smiled nodding.

“I know.” Thorin leaned in capturing those lips between his a kiss of reassurance. “I’m real, you are real and this…this is real.”

Thranduil tried to smile but all he could do was grimaced when his eyes fell upon the marks on his chest. They were deep completely engraved on his otherwise unmarked skin. He glanced at the words and then at Thorin who was looking at him intently.

“Why did they write this on you?” This was something Thorin was meant to ask a long time ago, as soon as he realized what it said. Thranduil tensed his face going blank while he glanced at his own lap.

“Thranduil? Why did…”

“They thought it would be funny.” Thranduil replied angered, ashamed while evading Thorin’s stare. “The mighty Elven-King of the Woodland Realm made into a slave, mark as a property…”

“Why my name? If they wanted to humiliate you why not use their leader’s name or something? Why my name?” Perhaps this was not the best moment to discuss such a thing, but Thorin was taking advantage of the fact he and Thranduil were alone.

Pretty soon everyone would be around them, asking questions and trying to celebrate the fact Thranduil seemed to be recovering. Thorin was looking for a moment alone with the Elven-King, but it was true Thorin had other things in mind when he thought of his time alone with the elf.

Thranduil shifted uncomfortable he closed his eyes trying to suppress the memories. What would Thorin say if he told him the whole truth?

“Here, I forgot I came here to see if you were awake and give you something to eat.” Thorin placed the warm bread on Thranduil’s hand; he then proceeded to open the blue bottle. “I was also meant to give you this so you could get better.”

Thranduil was grateful for the pause on the topic; he grabbed the bread gratefully taking a small bite before drinking the warm beverage from the bottle. Thranduil felt as his body warmed thanks to the drink, he could sense the healing herbs in the liquid taking care of his tiredness.  Silence surrounded them with Thranduil eating and Thorin watching. Thorin waited but he made sure with his posture, his gestures and his staring that the topic was not forgotten. Thranduil could pretend he was still eating, or probably said he was sleepy. He could say whatever came to his mind to get out of this conversation but when he looked up Thorin was staring at him. There would never be a right moment for this.

“They were mocking my heart.” Said Thranduil continuing their chat as if it had never been interrupted by his meal, Thorin didn’t say nothing he just paid close attention. Thranduil wished Thorin was back to being his usual grumpy, ignoring self, at least that way it was easier for Thranduil to be close to the dwarf.

“They did it to remind me of…of the feeble of my hope that perhaps you could feel something for me.” Thranduil did look at Thorin this time giving the dwarf a broken smile. “This was a reminder of how pathetic I was. I still am.”

Thranduil opened his eyes in shock when he felt those fingertips belonging to Thorin caressing the pattern of the writing on his chest. He lifted his face to see Thorin frowning slightly.

“I don’t get it. All this time, I thought I was a filthy dwarf not worth your attention.” Thorin glanced at Thranduil. “Then Fíli tells me you sacrifice yourself for me and now you’re telling me the orcs were making fun of what you feel for me.”

Misunderstandings.

The stories someone could write about the misunderstandings between elves and dwarves could fill a library. Thranduil felt old and wary his eyes seeking out Thorin’s ones.

“I never thought of you in such a way. My position asked of me a certain level of detachment and coldness.” Thranduil spoke softly his right hand sliding to grasp Thorin’s one. “You were a mystery to me on our first meeting and, as time passed and I got to see more of you I seemed to be charmed by you.”

“All this time, all the things that happened between us and our Kingdoms…” Thorin huffed shaking his head.

The dwarf stood up walking away from the bed, passing around the room thinking. Thorin never saw the hurt crossing Thranduil’s blue eyes. Thranduil sat there feeling his heart break longing for the dreams to be back. At least in his delirium Thorin seemed to kiss back, to actually sing to him with affection and care. The reality was certainly cold and lonely.

Thorin placed his hands on a table watching the herbs and the different medical items in there. His eyes fell upon the ointment he had used for hours to bring back a delirious Thranduil. He grabbed the small pot remembering the conversation he had with Lady Galadriel. This shouldn’t be difficult at all, not when Thranduil had already confessed to him.

Grabbing the pot Thorin turned around and his heart broke just a little at the lost expression on Thranduil’s face. Making up his mind, Thorin approached the bed and sat back on top of the mattress closer to Thranduil. The elf gasped in shock at the closeness, Thorin tilted his head while his fingers took some of the ointment.

“I do not know what is going to happen.” Thorin replied softly his hand moving slowly to the expose chest of Thranduil. Thranduil gulped shivering under the touch of Thorin.

The King Under the Mountain moved his fingers with care, sliding them on top of the marks with feather-like touches. The ointment was still fresh, the aroma filling the air around them. Thranduil watched Thorin work on the engraved words while moving closer to him.

“I’m not even sure what we’re doing is safe for either of us.” Continued Thorin, his voice was deep and rougher than Thranduil remembered it. With a burning need, Thranduil lifted his right hand caressing the dark beard.

Thorin smiled making sure he covered every single burn while he moved closer and closer.

“The only thing I know is a second away from you is second closer to madness.” Thorin frowned shaking his head.

“Tell me this is not another dream, Thorin. Tell me I’m not going to wake up delirious from poison and fever.” Thranduil brushed his lips against Thorin’s ones. “I think madness would take over my mind if this was but a dream again…”

“Let me reassure you then.” Thorin kissed Thranduil with passion behind his lips.

The Elven-King gasped letting out a strangle moan when the dwarf placed him on the bed moving right on top of him. Thranduil wrapped his right arm around Thorin and put him closer clinging to him like a thirsty man to water. This moment was what he needed, his soul and mind was seeking the comfort of the dwarf kissing away his worries.

 

No one interrupted them for the rest of the day and the night and Thorin spent is time showing Thranduil he was not a dream.

* * *

* * *

* * *

The next morning found both Kings sleeping in the comfort of the other’s arm. Thranduil was the first to wake up. The Elven-king felt a strange yet pleasant warm on his chest moving to his limbs and head. It was a tingling sensation brought by the closeness of the dwarf next to him and the memory of what they did and said the day before.

Thranduil lifted his eyes to see Thorin watching him closely. The elf tilted his head and went back to his examination of the dwarf’s body. His good fingers caress the hairy chest traveling to the different scars he could spot. Many of which were recent and still burning in Thorin’s skin.

“I’ve always been curious about dwarves bodies. I’ve wondered if you were just as hairy as you were on your face and head.” Thranduil gave the dwarf a half smile. “I’m glad to confirm you do.”

“Humph, I was also curious about elves bodies.” Replied Thorin eying the naked figure of Thranduil beside him. “Strange you only have your golden hair and the rest is just clean and smooth.”

“Is it unattractive to you?” Thranduil asked curiously moving slightly to bite gently on Thorin’s neck. The dwarf gasped his arm wrapping tightly around Thranduil’s shoulders.

“N-No. Just different.” Thorin growled turning around to pin Thranduil under him, the Elven-king lifted a daring eyebrow his lips curled in a teasing smile. “How can you be so hungry for more?”

“You are like burning fire inside my veins, Thorin. I can feel you in ways I haven’t felt anyone before.”

Thorin looked Thranduil closely; his eyes gleaming with bad contain happiness he leaned in kissing the Elven-King. Things would have escalate quickly if it hadn’t been by a knocking on the door. At first it was a shy tap, soft and almost reluctant then it turned out into three harsh hits on the wooden door. Thorin huffed indignantly while Thranduil seemed equally frustrated.

“Uncle, is morning _again_ and we’ve brought breakfast.” Kíli’s voiced reached both Kings who looked at one another. Thorin stood up reluctantly getting dress under the watchful stare of Thranduil.

“Also, I believe you are need in the council chamber and the elves want to see if their King is doing okay.”

Kíli waited few minutes with some of the dwarves bringing breakfast to the Kings. The young prince smiled bouncing on his feet while waiting patiently, he looked at the end of the hall where Tauriel was still trying to speak to a gloomy looking Legolas. Kíli chuckled remembering the look of horror Legolas and Fíli had when they had tried to enter the room the night before. The sounds where enough for both princes to go back down and drink to forget; well Kíli did warn them.

The hinges on the door made a metallic sound and his uncle appeared right in front of him. Kíli smiled cheekily wriggling his eyebrows at his uncle who merely rolled his eyes. The young prince instructed the dwarves who soon set the food for Thranduil and Thorin before leaving.

“King Thranduil, it is very nice to know you’re doing much better now.” Commented Kíli with the grin still on place. Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the young dwarf refusing to feel any form of embarrassment at the comment.

“Thank you, Prince Kíli. I am glad as well, sickness does not dwell with a King like me.” Thranduil glanced at Thorin then proceeded to eat.

“Yes, that’s true. I have to say Tauriel and I and even Fíli got scare when you started vanishing into those dreams.” Kíli eyed the elf who sat with his back straight wearing an open shirt on his torso and the blankets around his waist.

“I think I should thank you then for taking care of me and my people when I was unable to do it.” Thranduil bowed his head to Kíli who smiled embarrassedly at the King.

“It was our honor….besides, you seemed to be pretty important to uncle and that was enough for us to do everything in our hands to keep you safe.” Kíli turned to his uncle then to Thranduil, both Kings glanced at each other sharing a secret smile.

“You did well, Kíli. You and your brother, I’m very proud.” Thorin put his hand on Kíli’s shoulder, the dwarf puffed out his chest happily.

At that moment Haldir and Legolas entered the room with Tauriel closed behind them, the she-elf winked at Kíli who grinned like a fool at her. Legolas sent a heated glare at Thorin before sitting to his father’s side. Haldir eyed Thorin before taking his place to the other side of Thranduil’s bed. In all that time Thorin glared at Haldir showing his obvious dislike of the elf.

“Father, you’re looking better.” Legolas grabbed his father’s hand giving the elf a softening smile.

“I feel better.” Replied Thranduil eying Legolas then Haldir. “I believe you and Thorin reacted fast enough to help me heal. I believe I have to thank Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn for the help they sent.”

“My lords were as worried as me, Thranduil.” Haldir saw how tense Thranduil seemed the both of them stared at each other before Thranduil returned to his meal.

Thorin was eating his own meal following the interaction with growing interested, a part of him itching to take Haldir’s eyes off of Thranduil. Haldir eyed his old friend as he was back talking to Legolas, for the Marchwarden was incredible how effective the healing had been. Haldir eyed the mark on Thranduil’s chest noticing how the skin was taking a faint red, healing slowly. The marks would forever be there, of that he had no doubt.  But at least now they didn’t seem to hurt.

Haldir lifted his head to find Thorin watching him. He was tempted to smile when he saw the burning jealousy and animosity behind Thorin’s eyes. It was most amusing to see the dwarf in such a new light, who would have thought this kind of attraction was possible?

Haldir turned to Thranduil and smile, his friend had always been full of surprises. With a mischievous mind, Haldir moved closer his hand stretching to almost touch Thranduil’s naked chest.

“Your burns, they seem to be healing.” Haldir said eying them and then Thranduil. The Elven-King sent a suspicious stare to Haldir nodding hesitant.

“Yes, they are. Although, I believe this will forever be burn on me.” Thranduil stared at the marks and glanced at Thorin out of the corner of his eyes.

Legolas frowned shaking his head, “Don’t say that, Father. I’m sure with time they would heal.”

“They’re already healing, son. Don’t worry…a part of me does not want them to disappear.” Thranduil felt the corner of his mouth twitched when he heard the surprise gasp from Thorin and the astonished expression on the rest of the people in the room.

“But…Father, I don’t…” Legolas started turning to shoot a withering stare at Thorin. “I don’t think it’s proper!”

“Oh, I don’t think many proper things were done here last night.” Replied Kíli earning a nice smack on the back of his head courtesy of Tauriel.

Thranduil and Thorin opened their eyes with Thorin shooting his nephew angry stares, the same ones Haldir seemed to be sending Thorin and then Kíli. Thranduil this time around felt embarrassed the tip of his ears turning red when Legolas opened his own eyes facing the truth he had known but hadn’t confirmed until now.

Legolas was tempted to punch the prince when his father placed a calming hand on him.

Legolas turned to see his father smiling, “We will talk about this later. Just know this burning has a new meaning now.”

It was the calming tone of his father, the sudden warm Legolas felt under his blue eyes and tender touch. He trusted his father, he had known about his hearts’ desire for a long time. Now, finally everything seemed to be going the way he wanted it. Legolas nodded mirroring his father expression.

“Very well.”

From then on the conversation turned to light topics until there was nothing left to eat and everyone but Thorin left the room. It was past mid-morning when Lannian and Oín arrived to check on Thranduil under the watchful stare of Thorin. The dwarf didn’t want to leave the room, he sensed there was much to be discussed between them and he just wanted to do it before the inevitable has to happen.

“Now, what?” Asked Thorin once Lannian left closing the door behind him. “You are getting better, your elvish healing finally working…”

Thranduil nodded eying Thorin with a tender smile on his face, “I’m still King, Thorin. My Realm needs me.”

“I know.” Thorin replied gruffly. “Mine needs me as well.”

That was it; this was something they knew they had to face. Either way, things were happening fast. Everything started in a bad light, with a kidnapping and bad experiences. Thorin wondered if they would have gotten to this point if nothing bad had happened. Thranduil put his blankets away changing his position so now he was sitting at the edge of the bed. Thorin approached the Elven-King peering at him with wondering eyes.

“There is an oncoming celebration in Mirkwood. The star light celebration.” Said the Elven-King. “Perhaps, you and your court can come as guest, this time.”

Thorin snorted enjoying the glint in Thranduil’s blue eyes.

“I thank you for the invitation.” Thorin replied sneaking his hand to the nape of Thranuil’s neck putting the elf closer. “We will have another celebration as well, something I can’t quite remember at the moment.”

“I see I would be honored if you were to invite me to your halls again.” Thranduil smiled feeling Thorin’s lips against his. “We will have our new year as well. Mirkwood is beautiful that time of the year.”

There would be so many opportunities for both Kings to keep on seeing each other. They knew their duties as leaders would keep them occupied from each other, they were aware this new relationship between them was not going to be easy. But, they were willing to try. This was a chance, an opportunity the world was presenting them with, if they didn’t take it now perhaps they would not have another moment to do so. They were now tied by more than politics and treaties; this time around they would try to reach to each other right.

“I’m not ready to give you up, Thranduil. But I also know we have duties.” Thorin kissed Thranduil desperately trying to communicate everything he was no capable of doing in words.

“So, I decided that I won’t give you up, every chance I get I will be at your Kingdom’s door asking for you.” Thorin started kissing the soft cheeks up to the ears, nibbling on the sensitive skin earning lustful moans from Thranduil. “I will invite you to my Halls just to share your bed again, to be in your company until we have to go back to reality. But I will never join another that it isn’t you.”

“You…you can’t you…” Thranduil started saying feeling his heart beating fast at the promise behind Thorin’s words.

“I can. Fíli is already filling in his future position and he is ready to be married. He is my heir.” Thorin grabbed Thranduil’s face tenderly. “I don’t know what will happen in the future, I just know my heart now belongs to you and contrary to popular belief, dwarves do love only once.”

 

“It is not going to be easy.” Replied Thranduil kissing Thorin with need. Thorin smirked kissing the elf back with equal passion. “But, I’m not ready to give you up either, Thorin. So, let’s try to immortalize our moments together.

* * *

* * *

* * *

Three days later found Thranduil getting ready to leave his room and attended the celebration of his recovery and his parting.

Haldir entered the room pleased to see Thranduil sitting up with Lannian wrapping bandages around his chest. His old friend was still pale and his broken wrist would take some time to recover. And yet, here it was, The Elven-King of the Woodland Realm. He looked happy, stronger and recovered.

“You have come a long way just to see me.” Thranduil lifted his eyes to look at Haldir, the Marchwarden bowed before him approaching with a soft smile playing on his lips.

“As soon as I heard what happened I asked to be let go so I could see you.” Replied Haldir watching as Thranduil stood up putting on a green shirt with black leggings.

“I find it difficult to believe Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn let go of their best guardian.” Thranduil turned to se Haldir standing right in front of him.

The both of them stared at each other until Haldir wrapped his arms around Thranduil.

“I’m glad you’re well, old friend.” Haldir mumbled hugging Thranduil tightly. “When Legolas told me what happened and when I saw you I thought…”

“I know, I thought the same.” Thranduil moved away from the embrace eying Haldir critically. “You look well; it’s been too long since we last saw each other.”

Haldir nodded sadly, “Too long for my liking and I can see in that time you have change a lot.”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Thranduil replied knowing what Haldir was talking about. “He is… _different._ ”

“He is dwarf.” Haldir furrowed his brows. “It is strange and _unnatural_ in some way and yet…the way he fought to save you…”

Thranduil felt heated growing on his cheeks, the memories of the previous night filling his mind. He turned around evading Haldir narrowed eyes and prying questions.

“I cannot explain it. This feeling it sort of happen.” Thranduil smiled softly touching the ring Thorin had left in the morning just before he left.

Thranduil still remembered, even after all this time he was nervous, not really knowing what he was doing. But Thorin, he just knew what he wanted and made sure Thranduil was aware of it. Thranduil had been doubtful at first, he kissed and touched but fear was evident in his every move. Thorin had been enthusiastic; he had been an avid lover calming his thirst of Thranduil’s body while reassuring the elf of the reality between them. And Thranduil had felt it, the emotion behind every touch, every kiss, and every word. Thranduil felt warm again, something inside his soul and heart stirring with happiness and love. Strange yet wonderful.

“A part of me still things all of this a dream.” Thranduil said softly.

“A good dream, I hope?” Haldir sat down eying Thranduil. “I do not understand it and I won’t claim I approve completely of this but…I guess I can give it a chance.”

“Well, thank you for your consideration.” Thranduil replied with sarcasm, Haldir snorted resting his hand on his cheek.

“Believe me, it is a great consideration over all if you take into account your dwarf is jealous of me.” Haldir smiled mischievously when Thranduil opened his eyes in horror and realization.

“What did you do?” Haldir chuckled at the evident threat behind Thranduil’s voice.

“Nothing, I did nothing. I told your son some stories about your younger days.” Replied Haldir. “Some of our adventures, you and I. All alone facing adventures and dangers.”

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” Thranduil narrowed his eyes at Haldir who merely shrugged.

“Thorin is easily annoyed and it is most amusing to me.” Haldir winked at Thranduil. “Don’t worry, I never told him of your drunken declaration of love…”

“Shut up.” Thranduil straightened up in dignified way, wincing slightly at the discomfort on his left hand and chest.

“At least, Thranduil, tell me he is worthy, tell me he makes you happy and I promise not to bother him too much.” Haldir gauged the emotions behind his old friend’s eyes, little by little he saw the softening in his eyes.

“I do not know what is going to happen. But, it is worth it.” Thranduil leaned against the wall looking at the ceiling. “When I realized we were captured I couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt…I volunteer for the harsh treatment.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be capable of taking it.” Thranduil continued in an even voice. “Then, I would see him, the sincere worry in his eyes I would hear him sing to me and I realized I would keep sacrificing myself if only to have him in ways I never thought possible.”

“This is different, isn’t it?” Haldir smiled sadly at Thranduil already knowing the answer to his own question.

“Yes, yes it is.” Thranduil felt he should add something else but decided against it.

 

“Then, I have nothing else to say. I’m glad you’re happy, Thranduil.” Haldir placed his hand on Thranduil’s shoulder. “I hope you consider Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn’s invitation, though. You can take Thorin with you and perhaps this time around he will behave.”

Thranduil snorted, “I don’t think it possible, but I will consider the invitation if only to see what Celeborn twitched at Thorin’s rude behavior.”

“You really need to talk to each other again.” Said Haldir. “Come, I believe your dwarf is waiting for us and I’m sensing a dead glare from his part.”

“Very well, let’s go.”

* * *

* * *

* * *

Thranduil couldn’t help the amusement growing in him when Thorin narrowed his eyes at Haldir. The dwarf was glaring intently at the Marchwarden who entered the room beside Thranduil closer than the Elven-King remembered them being moments ago.

Thranduil turned to see Haldir smirking tilting his head to wink at Thranduil before sauntering away. The Elven-King shoot a warning glare to his friend but his attention was soon claimed by Thorin.

“I hate him.” Thorin blurted out crossing his arms.

“I can see that.” Thranduil laughed enjoying the annoyance reflecting in Thorin’s eyes. “But, you don’t have to worry…Haldir is just an old friend.”

“Old friend?” Thorin huffed fidgeting. “He seemed very adamant to make me believe another thing…”

“Oh, I bet he did.” Thorin sent Thranduil a withering look, the Elven-King leaned forward bending to kiss Thorin softly on his lips. “Haldir enjoys his games, but he knows I belong to you as much as you belong to me now.”

“I hope he does or I’m going to hurt him.” Thorin crossed his arms licking his lips while staring at Thranduil. The Elven-King rolled his eyes placing his hand on Thorin’s shoulder.

“Whatever you want, King Thorin. Now, shall we enjoy the celebrations?”

A lot of things could be said of that night.

They could tell nice, funny stories about Kíli and Ori getting drunk. Or how the elves seemed to tease the dwarves about their tolerance of great amounts of alcohol. Legolas enjoyed it especially over all when he made Dwalin wager he could outdrink the prince.

Thranduil was highly amused when Balin tried to advice his brother but the stubborn dwarf shook his head. Dwalin was convinced Legolas was bluffing and thus the both of them started the competition. With amusing results for the presents.

“You knew your son was going to win.” Thorin said snorting when Dwalin fell asleep on the table.

“Your wine and your beer are of excellent quality, Thorin.” Said Thranduil turning to the dwarf, he smiled tenderly at Thorin. “But we taste stronger beverages that can actually get us drunk. For us, this is not stronger than a few drops of our wine.”

“You have to let me taste it.” Thranduil raised an eyebrow at Thorin’s request, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“It would be my pleasure to do so.” Thranduil replied smirking with a strange glint in his eyes.

“I’m starting to think the minds of the elves are a wicked thing.” Thorin commented enjoying the laughter coming from Thranduil.

“Oh, my darling, you have no idea.” Thranduil then leaned closer wrapping his lips on Thorin’s ear. “Would you like to test just how wicked I can be?”

Thorin gulped shivering under the sudden change from Thranduil, he turned to look around and realized no one was paying attention to them. Thranduil placed his good hand on Thorin’s chest making Thorin turned to stare at him.

“Let me enjoy this last night until we can meet again.” Said Thranduil. “I want to enjoy your company and keep it in my heart when the loneliness of my duties overwhelmed me.”

“I cannot deny you, Thranduil.” Replied Thorin. “For I also have the same need.”

They left the celebration and, for the first time, Thorin took the Elven-King to his private quarters in which, for as long as it last the night and part of the morning Thorin reassured Thranduil of his love and his promise. Thorin spoke tenderly through the night, igniting in the Elven-King need and affection. When the time came for Thranduil to leave they shared one last glance, one last moment in which they knew there would be a forever in their lives if they just worked for it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is an open ending, you know? :D I really hope you like it.

**Author's Note:**

> Songs:  
> The Road Goes Ever on - song by Bilbo Baggins.  
> The Houses of Healing - Liv Tyler - Howard Shore


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